Dark Absurdities
by Dimas
Summary: Both thought each of them had gone through too much for one lifetime, yet fate was still not intent on ceasing these twisting games... Set 4 years after Alien Force. BenxCharmcaster, one-sided platonic BenxGwen. Last chapter added.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10 or anything related to the series.

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Part 1: The Dark Absurdities

_Charmcaster's POV_

Every now and then I separate myself from the world that surrounds me and look into the past, my past, studying it like a scholar would study an ancient manuscript written in a language no longer spoken. I look at these glyphs with the aim of making them speak, reveal, answer the one question that has been haunting me for a long time. Why did all of this happen?

My greatest wish is to forget my past life, but, nevertheless, I keep revisiting it in my thoughts, in my nightmares...

Back during my short-lasting stay in juvi after that ridiculous body-switch incident years ago, I first came across speculations about my mental health from the facility's staff. Now as I think on this issue, I wonder whether they were really right.

My uncle Hex, rest his soul, had a purpose. He used his powers and committed crimes in order to achieve one thing—world domination, a destiny he thought the only one fit for someone of his might and greatness. But what about me?

I betrayed my uncle so that I could get possession of the recreated Charms of Bazel, but not for a moment did I wonder for what purpose I was planning on using it. I attempted to switch bodies with Ben which would have given me the opportunity of channeling my magic through his alien forms. So what could have been the point of doing that? I put a charm on the boyfriend of my archrival with a kiss and used him as a pawn to lure her into a trap and stole her power. In this case my triumph at least lasted for several hours, but aside from anger over being defeated by a 10-year old five years before, I cannot name any other relatively rational explanations. I did not demand like a billion dollar ransom in exchange for not destroying Bellwood. It would not have made me a worldwide celebrity and a constant guest on talk shows. It now seems that I was after power but not its spoils like authority or wealth.

It seems so now, but I was unable to see it then. Mental blindness had taken over me and with it I traveled from year to year, ignorant of the patterns of reality. Yet miracles happen even in the kingdom of the blind, and weak light began to pierce the thick fogs that had been covering my mind for years. It had taken a long time to reach me, for it happened only two years after the incident with Kevin.

First, I started questioning my motives. Only then I began to understand that I had dedicated so many years to a meaningless game, a game that nobody else played with me. I was destined to remain a pariah no matter whether I was winning or losing.

Realization was what cast me to the gates of Hell. I do not know how much time I spent in the miserable depression that followed it. The fairytale that I had personally written for myself was finishing with torment, not a happy end. As its author, I just needed to put the final dot. Several times I had taken a knife, ready to stab myself in the hearth, but just to throw it against the wall. Several times I had lit a candle, thinking of bringing it close to my robe so that its flame would consume me like the fires of the Inquisition had done to countless medieval "witches", yet put it out in the last moment. I still wonder what held me back then.

With nothing else left, I gave up to the authorities. Then I received an offer from a special service that needed my expertise in resolving a little problem that had arisen for them. Some loony warlord in South-East Asia had taken possession of an ancient Indian artifact (probably of alien origin) that had the power to turn an entire jungle into a wasteland within minutes. Logically, the guy was intent on reshaping the socio-political realities of the area to his liking. However, not every force wanted to see such a scenario come true. Yet the measures that could have been taken by them can be considered limited.

My objective was to steal or destroy it, so that is why I took a trip to the region. I must admit that, in a way, I enjoyed the place: the sunny beaches, the ruins of marvelous shrines lost in the tropical forests, the masked theatre performances…That is, when I was not chased or shot at by cutthroat militias. Just like any other adventure story, mine culminated in the showdown with the main villain. Strangely, it was easier than I had expected; I just needed to overload his ultimate weapon with my magic, thus shattering it. Its powers turned against him and the bastard got torn into bloody shreds by the freed energies. That guy ain't gonna be playing with toys like that ever again!

Triumphant, I returned to account for my mission. I did not fail them, and they kept to their side of the bargain. I was given help to start a new life, so that I would not return to a criminal career as Charmcaster. I was given the position of a librarian in one of the provincial towns—it is not the same as getting a banker's post in New York, but at least it's better than nothing. However, one thing made me raise an eyebrow immediately. The town I was going to be sent to is called Bellwood. For me, that meant a lot…

That was how normal life began for me after years of dark absurdities. I have spent these two years like most other people do: I go to work, I go home, I pay taxes, and I watch the news in the evening. Loneliness became my scourge. When I forsake my past, I forsake everybody I was associated in it. I had no friends: allies and accomplices in the past, acquaintances in the present.

Sometimes, I visit the grave of my uncle, whom I have forgiven for his past faults before me. I might spend numerous hours there, locked in my little world, one amidst the infinity I have created in one lifetime.

Yet these two years were destined to be a passing era in my life just like its predecessors. One day the dark absurdities of my past collided with the grey realities of my present. That day I once again came across Ben Tennyson after a long time. The metamorphosis amazes me. In the past, he foiled my schemes on several occasions; nowadays, he, secretly and hopelessly in love with his own cousin, turns to me for comfort and caress…


	2. Chapter 2

PART 2: The Dolphin and the Mermaid

_Chramcaster's POV_

There is a common stereotype that all young women love shopping. Well, whoever came to that conclusion was probably fueled by LSD when this 'revelation' hit him! Personally, I have never been an admirer of this art, and the most despised sub-genre is undoubtedly grocery shopping…But life is life, and you cannot avoid this. I do not live in a rural area of Medieval Byzantine or Renaissance Italy where (and when, for that matter) you could grow your own food and produce your own textiles, so shopping has become a necessity for us modern city dwellers, second only to breathing. That day I had an entire bag full, and it was quite heavy. I could have easily conjured up a portal to home, but I do understand that doing this amidst a legion of people is not the best of ideas. Plus, there are always a lot of cameras all around, so I will have to answer a couple of unpleasant question from the security staff, the next time they see me in the store. Pulling the same stunt on the street would also be a 'no'.

So I am usually left with only one option: walking. It's a good thing I live not far from it.

I exited the shop. It was the time when dusk was soon to overthrow day just to experience the same fate several hours later, in another act of the eternal struggle between light and darkness. I walked no more than ten steps, and from behind the corner appeared the figure of a young man. His green, like a pair of emeralds, eyes and my blue ones met, making us both stop in our tracks. If some third-rate poet wannabe had witnessed this scene, he would have explained it as love from first sight. Well, it's not!

Even though I had not seen Ben in years, I was able to recognize him. True, his facial features did go through some changes, an indication that he was an adult now, but he still remained the same Ben Tennyson. He even wore a green jacket like four years before. I even have a suspicion that I know what he was doing just a few minutes before—there is a café nearby, in the direction from which he had emerged. He was probably having another gastronomical nightmare that is called a smoothie. Honestly, what do people see in that stuff?!

I recognized him immediately, but in those moments I wondered whether he recognized or simply giving me a look-over me. I remember how a year before some Casanova told me that my silvery hair made me 'exotically delicious'—after that he began screaming from the sudden pain that arouse in his groin as if some invisible adversary had hit him. That knight had been courting the wrong Princess!

Ben then decided to approach me.

"Charmcaster?" he asked quietly, even though no people were beside us.

"Hello, Ben, long time no see," I gave a reply, smiling softly.

We had a talk about our lives and on trivial matters, just like old acquaintances do after not seeing each other for years. In a way, we were old acquaintances. I was surprised he believed in my reform after all we've been through. He let me know that he had already found out about it from his Grandfather—turns out the Plumbers somehow have access to the data of other special services. I really ought to sue that guy for disclosing private information to third parties!

Ben volunteered to carry my bag as he accompanied me—there was a lot to say about our—mostly his—adventures in these missing years. Ben has some symptoms of a type of harmless arrogance, so he would try to hang on to a person who is ready to hear about his exploits. Since the shapeshifting superhero has to keep his identity a secret, he could sign hymns to himself only in front of a few. By a weird twist of fate, I became a member of that privileged minority.

Our path led us to the entrance of my place.

"We're here," I made him aware of it.

"Ok, then. I suppose you'd want your bag back," He handed me my bag with a smile.

I was ready to say something in the lines of 'see you later', but the opportunity of spending the next couple of hours in loneliness discouraged me. Aside from that, I did not have the time to ask about his cousin…

"Maybe you would like to come in for a drink?" I asked.

"Do you have any smoothies?" he managed to answer my question with his own.

"Yeah, sure, let me just conjure up a smoothie-making apparatus. You want a milkshake with that?" I said sarcastically, "Of course, I don't have any smoothies!" I laughed.

"That's no problem," he smiled in return.

"Oh, c'mon, do you have an addiction to that stuff?!" I asked, shaking my head as we entered.

Inside, we—in this case, mostly I—quickly put the groceries to their rightful place. Very soon, I passed him his glass of wine as we sat on the sofa in the living room. I turned the TV on some random channel.

"So how is your cousin?" I finally asked, opening a box of cookies and putting it on the table—someone was destined to have his or her appetite spoiled for the evening. I sipped my drink.

"Fine," he replied, "she is currently taking time off, but she intends to apply to one of the prestigious east coast universities for the next academic year."

"Intriguing," I said, and another question jumped to me, "Is Kevin still _seeing_ her?"

"Actually, they're now dating," Ben replied, yet there was something in the tone he said it; something harsh, something cold…

It even made me raise an eyebrow. Something weird was going on in that already unusual team. My curiosity wanted to uncover it.

"By the way, speaking about relatives," Ben looked at me, "whatever happened to your uncle, Hex—I hadn't encountered him in years."

"He's dead," I sighed and closed my eyes, "Even magical powers cannot cure serious illnesses. Until the last breath in life, my uncle remained the same brutal and wicked person you remember him, yet I mourn him." I felt a tear slid down my cheek.

"I'm sorry," he said taken aback.

I did not answer, just looked at him and nodded.

"This show is so stupid," Ben playfully complained in an attempt to lighten me up, turning his head to the screen, "is there anything else on?"

My eyes wet, I flipped a couple of channels, but that's the problem—there was nothing good on.

"So…" he started, seeking to send the discussion in a lighter direction.

It seems he encountered hardships in finding a suitable topic.

"So are you married or anything?" that was the best thing he could come up with.

I giggled deep inside myself. There is no better way of lightening up than a good joke—after all, he had foiled my plans in the past on several occasions.

"Yes! Oh my, I have forgotten to introduce you to my husband, Steve," I stood up, putting my glass on the table, "He was working last night, so he's still asleep," I smiled, "but he can sleep later; he must be here when I'm having Ben 10 as my guest!"

"Perhaps you should let him rest," suggested Ben; I can't believe he fell for that.

"Nonsense!" I bolted to the closed door of my bedroom.

"Oh, and Ben, I don't have a husband," I confessed, standing in front of it.

"Ha-Ha-Ha," he parodied a laugh, "You should take your act to the stage. You're wasting your talents of a comedian!" He gave a recommendation in a friendly voice.

"By the way, why is the emphasis on me?" I hummed when I returned.

"Ok, then what would you like to hear?"

"Are you married, for starters?"

"Nope,"

"Do you at least have a lady that keeps your heart?"

"Is that in Shakespearian English?"

"No, it's not, and don't even attempt to deny me my revenge," I chuckled.

A couple of moments of awkward silence followed.

"Yes, there is," he admitted, turning his eyes from me to the floor.

I had a guess, and it was not a wild one. The way he said one of the sentences earlier gave hints, perhaps not solid, but still…

"It's Gwen, isn't it?" I smiled with a small amount of wickedness.

"Gwen?! No! How did you even think about it?! She's my cousin!" he denied, adding a prologue to a lecture.

There are two types of people: the ones who exceed in the craft of lying and those who fail in it. Ben belongs to the latter: the manner of pronunciation, the facial expression gave him away. When he was trying to deny my statement, he reminded me a petty shoplifter who even after being caught red-handed gives claims of being innocent, not a true believer who is ready to go on the gallows just to prove his point.

I was now certain that I discovered the secret of Ben Tennyson like Oedipus had solved the riddle of the Theban Sphinx.

"Calm down, Ben. It's just a guess," I tried doing what I said, yet I was sure it was not just a speculation…

My curiosity now fed, I reached forward and took his hands into mine. He looked me in the eyes.

"Moreover," I continued, "I did not take you for some sort of a weirdo. One cannot choose who to love, and phenomena like that are quite common in some parts of the word. For example, when I was on my mission to…"

"It's more than a guess," he finally confessed in a grim tone. Perhaps my words did influence him.

"If you would like to speak about it with me, I will listen," I said softly, "after all, we can say that I and your cousin have gone through a lot."

"There's no point in talking about it. She had chosen Kevin over me back four years ago. Seems like she really is into bad boys." he sighed and turned from me to the window, gazing at the dusk outside, "perhaps I should be going."

"Sure," I nodded, releasing his hands, "if it's not a secret, when will be the next time you see her."

"Fortunately and unfortunately, I will see them both tomorrow. It is hard living knowing that the love of your life is with another man, but I cannot imagine living without at least seeing her."

That phrase struck me like lightning from the heavens. Years have passed but my dislike of Gwendolyn Tennyson had never faded away. Though I recognize that she was on the right side, I still have not forgiven her for beating me in magic and stealing my spellbook. So it turned out that my rival's sway over men was as strong as Cleopatra's, and that she would have no problems if she decided to put leashes on their necks and make them fight like dogs over her if she wanted. So pathetic of Ben to fall to this level!

"I suppose, I'll be seeing you," he said, standing up.

"Ben, you have simply created an idol of Gwen in your thoughts. That's not going to turn out good," I said, still having not overcome my burst of anger at her newest success.

"I know, but there is nothing I can do,"

A weird, even wild thought came across my mind, and I felt the dark absurdities of my past were looking at me from the abyss. I could have sworn that even heard their whispers, similar to those of demons.

"Then allow me to somehow help you," this time I was the one to stand up.

Ben looked at me surprised as I began to quickly unbutton my shirt. Several moments it fell on the sofa, and I exposed what was supposed to stay hidden. One mere step, and I was beside him. He could not keep his eyes off me, enjoying what he saw, yet he did not know whether reason agreed with natural urges at that moment.

"No matter how absurd the past might have been, it died," I said when our eyes met once again.

Haunted by the visions of Gwen, who was so near but completely lost to him, he gave in to me, and we spent that night together, granting and receiving all the tenderness we could, as though we were true lovers…


	3. Chapter 3

PART 3: So Dances a Femme Fatale

He ducked in time to avoid a hit from the golem. The creature of rock and magic released a roar, not very loud, and attempted again. Yet its stony hand was blocked by another one, just as solid, but crystalloid in nature, which shone in the sun like an emerald. Diamondhead, the incarnation of Ben Tennyson at that moment, smirked, and the fist of his other hand met with the chin of the elemental, sending it against the ground.

"This is easy," he commented, making about ten—he was uninterested in counting—steps back, his eyes still on the creature.

"My advice, Ben, don't rely on strength alone," she said and by raising her hand made the stone creature immobile.

Ben admired her work—the golem now stood silently like an idol in the center of a pagan village in all its might and mysticism.

The young man now turned his gaze to the side where a female figure stood in the shadows of the trees.

"Well, this tactic works fine at the moment," he said in his trademark semi-playful style.

"You really sure about it?" with a gesture of her gloved hand, she pulled a lock of silvery hair that had fallen on her face aside.

"100 per cent. Now could you please reanimate rockface here? I need to smash a dummy—this is training after all."

"Fine, as you wish," she hissed, annoyed by his bottomless self-certainty, "but don't forget…"

"Yeah, sure," he replied before she finished.

She snapped her fingers, and the stone creature came alive once again. Ben once again granted his adversary the chance to see him in the face. An object as though taken directly from a myth, the golem stepped forward and was met with a rain of crystal shards that flew from the alien's palm. The magical creature did not move forward, hindered by the bolts, though they gave the minimal of damage, thinking over—if the elemental was capable of such a task—its next move. Yet it seemed that was beyond the golem, and as Ben thought in indication of it, the rock monster charged at the hero.

It gathered its mighty paws together and brought them down in an on the opponent…almost. Ben-Diamondhead jumped out of the way, so only the ground beneath experienced the fury of the golem. The crystal arms of the alien sharpened, now resembling blades made out of greenstone like those used by the ancient priests. The battle had gone long enough for him; it was time to win and get the prize.

The golem attempted to hit him again. A couple of skilled movements and a leap, and the severed rocky hand fell on the grass. It took several more seconds for the creature's head to fall on the ground, breaking into pieces as it did. Golems were creatures artificial, animated by magic, so killing something that naturally and technically was not alive could be called impossible.

"Time to celebrate!" Ben cheered, reverting from a crystalloid alien into his natural form.

Yet his triumph was destined to be short-lasting. From behind, he got caught in a magical aura, purple in color, like Gwen's…It wrapped around him like a cocoon, tearing him off the earth with the ease of a wind that does the same to a fallen leaf.

"Hey! What gives?!" he protested.

"I did warn you, Ben," sounded her voice from behind, "I did tell you to be careful."

He did not need to turn even if he had been able to—he was turned by the aura to face her. Some mere steps and the young sorceress stood beside him.

"You've lost the bet, Ben," she said with her lips curving into a victorious grin, "I win!"

"No fair! You cheated!" he was now floating in mid-air at the level of her knee.

"Oh, did I, Ben? Remember this training showdown was between you and me."

"So?" he asked. Indeed he remembered this but…

"Summoning golems is one of my tricks, not everything I was going to throw at you." She removed her gloves and ran her hand down his smooth cheek, "and while you are inside this aura, you are unable to move and, hence, use the Omnitrix. So do you yield?" she finally asked.

There was no other choice in his condition.

"Yes, yes, I yield," he replied annoyed, his victory stolen by a gap in the terms of their agreement.

"Excellent," the smile of a victor changed to that of a predator. With a wave of her free hand, the remnants of the golem were once again reduced to their natural form—pebbles.

"You do remember the deal we made, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes."

Then he found himself again standing on the ground; the aura had faded. Ben looked at his companion. He swore he could see the reflection of some wild thought burning in those blue eyes. This, in union with a black tiara crowned her head and the short dress of purple color on her with a pink stripe around the waist made her look like an anti-heroine from some fantasy movie. Ben could have thought the old Charmcaster came back for a moment, and not just the outfit.

Far above them the wind was playing with the green heads of the tall trees, separating, in its might, a couple of leaves and sending them on their separate treks. One of them fell on the surface of a forest lake, on the shore of which the pair stood, thus breaking the serenity of its waters in that place.

An entire week had passed since the moment they once again met each other after four years. Back only eight days ago he would not have imagined that his relationship with Charmcaster would change so dramatically. Then again before the Highbreed-related events, he would have thought the same about another of his formal rivals: Kevin Levin. Though he now had an awkward—incredibly awkward—friendship with both, these two cases differed significantly from each other as well. Kevin, though not a threat anymore, for Ben still continued to remain the biggest personal rival, unmatched even by the likes of Vilgax or Ghostfreak, for he had managed to easily win the one Ben had tried for years. His "friendship" with Charmcaster was…well…a major contrast. They spent the first night together exactly a week ago, and since then he had already returned to her bed on one occasion…and it was because of Gwen, both times. But he did not mind; he enjoyed the company of the reformed sorceress, both due to her personality and the naughty yet pleasure-granting adventures she could and was ready to offer him…

That was possibly why this time he had preferred to go and do some training with her, turning down Kevin and Gwen this time. And just to make this interesting, the hero and the former villainess had made a deal…

"Hello, Ben, are you there?" she snapped her fingers before his face, while asking.

"Yes," he responded, returning to her, "The loser is supposed to do one thing the winner tells him to. What is on your mind?"

"Well, you'll have to take your clothes off first," she grinned.

"Ok," now a grin appeared on his face.

He looked at her, lust filling him; he had to admit that style made her even more desirable, something he would not have thought four years before. True, the young woman was unpredictable, but he hoped he was right what her wish was.

"You do that, and I'll return in a moment," she said and went to the nearest trees.

_She sure is unpredictable_, he thought, looking in her trace and taking off his upper garments.

"Hey! No looking!" she shouted.

"Fine!" he turned around, now facing the lake. He took his boots off, and felt the warmth of the sand below with his bare foot. Soon he stood completely naked, noticing that the summer air was a bit chillier than he had expected.

"You can turn around now" she proclaimed, walking back.

Ben did so. He had expected her to return nude, yet not a single article of her clothing was missing. Strangely, she was hiding her hands behind her back.

"So what do you want me to do?" he asked, curiosity getting to him.

Originally, I was thinking about a different wish," she shot a quick glance at his member, "but I have noticed from our conversation that you are too proud and certain for your own good, so perhaps I should teach you a bit of humility," she said softly and playfully, "here's the thing—you're going to be my pet for the next hour. You can get down on your hands and knees now, Ben," she revealed what was hidden behind her back, a branch made into a stick.

"Oh, c'mon, Caroline!" he protested.

She approached him.

"We had a deal, Ben," she gently reminded him, gliding her finger on his shoulder, "remember the story of Heracles? After completing his 12 feats, he got into trouble due to his character, so had to spend 3 years as a slave to Queen Omphela, who made him do a lot and put him through all kinds of things, much more humiliating than this," with that she planted a quick kiss on his lips, "surely you can do this for me for one hour." she continued in her seductive tone.

Ben felt as if something in his chest, hampering his breathing, and he could not even find words to describe the processes that were taking place in his groin.

He did what she told earlier and got to his hands and knees. Why? He could not tell exactly, though he remembered how Charmcaster had used the phrase "dark absurdities"? Perhaps it was their deed? Perhaps he simply wanted to play such a role for a change?

"Nice boy," she praised him, patting him on the back, her touch making him shudder, "now fetch the stick!" she threw it and it fell on the sandy shore.

After this, she almost thought her old self returned. She enjoyed the power she had over Ben in these moments. No, her aim was not humiliating him. She just liked possessing this sort of authority. It gave her a completely unique feeling that embraced her fully, and that appealed to all traits of her persona. She still had a tiny speck of her past viciousness locked inside her, and now it laughed in her soul. Ben Tennyson had foiled her plans in the past, just as her uncle's, and now he crawled back naked, the stick she had thrown in his teeth. She took the piece of wood from him and sent it flying again.

"Fetch, Ben," she said. He crawled down a familiar path.

She danced in her temporary power, as if the essences of both Omphela and Salome united in her. No matter who had been her slaveboy, she most probably would have felt the same.

Ben returned the stick to her. She took it, silently admitting that the same activity would lead to boredom pretty soon. Why not try something else?

"Nice boy, you will get a treat for it later on," she lowered herself to her knees and gently rubbed his cheek. The expression on his face hinted that a lot of stuff was happening in his masculine organs.

She put the piece of wood on the ground, and, moving a bit, grabbed his penis instead, feeling how it hardened even more in her grasp. Her finger began scratching the back of his testicles.

"Caroline…" he whispered.

No matter what he was implying, she carried on. This brought the result she desired; Ben released his fluids on the sand bellow.

She grinned, she loved being in control.

—————————

_**Author's Note**_: due to stylistic reasons I have decided to make this chapter the third. However, the planned Chapter 4 is expected to be chronologically set between the second and the third chapters and address the events and issues mentioned in this part.


	4. Chapter 4

PART IV: The Tempest

"Ok, Ben, I think that's enough," she laughed lightly; a predatory smile appeared on her lips.

Her companion had remained true to their deal to the final moments, remaining on the sand before her on his hands and knees, naked.

She turned away to give him privacy—which she had denied him in the duration of the past half an hour—and turned to the lake. The crystal surface of it was calmed, undisturbed even by the fall of rare leaves abducted by the winds from the top of the tall trees. How idyllic was the scenery in the light of the sun; how calm.

Yet what boiled inside her was far from the colors of the picture. She still enjoyed those moments when her words were law. Though they had been short-lived like a star that fell from the heavens, but she felt their embrace, iron but strangely soft. The very fact that she had made Ben Tennyson crawl and follow her every command lacked the most proper description. It was just this need of testing your personal power over others, so typical to all human beings in different amounts. Some might have considered it a sign of sociopathy but for some it was natural.

"That was fun, wasn't it, Ben," she concluded, her back to him.

She heard him clapping his knees with his hands, brushing of the sand that had attached to him.

"It's nice to know that at least you enjoyed it," he responded in a voice so sharp that immediately gave away his dissatisfaction.

She turned her face to him, giving his standing figure another look-over.

"Oh please, you liked it yourself," Charmcaster laughed.

"And I have to admit that you looked adorable acting like a puppy." she then added.

Ben hummed and crossed his hands on his chest. Now he was the one to turn around.

"Ben?" she addressed him.

There was no reply.

"Ben, what's wrong?" the young man heard her concerned voice.

"I'm not talking to you anymore," he finally granted her a statement.

She put her palms on her hips.

"You would have seemed more convincing if you had had your clothes on," she replied in a teasing tone.

Again her words were followed by silence.

She shook her head, smiling again. It was no denial that Ben had always been a playful type, whether at the age of ten, in his mid-teen, or at the dusk of his teens. Everywhere possible he would attempt to start a show, a show in which he played the main role and in which he was the director and the scriptwriter, the host and the producer. The little drama in those moments was just another performance in his theatre; unfortunately for him, he had never learned to hide his intentions.

When there is only one role in a performance—it is a monologue; when there are two—it is a play. Well then, she would play the role of the main heroine if he wanted. Sophocles or Shakespeare, let the show go on!

"Oh, c'mon, Ben," her voice was suddenly fused with the melody of guilt and high sensitivity, "I didn't mean it," she wrapped her hands around his torso, and in a moment leaned to him.

Ben closed his eyes as their bodies touched. Even through the purple, one of the colors of coldness, robe he could feel the heat radiating from her body. He bathed in this new source of warmth. His mood, more or less spoiled by the "bet", rose once more. He wanted her embrace to continue for a longer period of time, maybe even until the end of the day.

He sighed deeply.

"I was just having fun," Charmcaster continued her lines.

At the same time her hand softly caressed his chest, adding newer sensations.

"And you did promise you would do anything I say I won," he then felt her touch his bare shoulder with her soft moist lips.

Ben found himself burning. The fires of lust now blazed in him with such ferocity that thought he would be reduced to ashes within the next minute.

He put his hands on top of hers and roughly pulled them away, releasing himself from her embrace, something so sweet that he was too reluctant to escape. Yet he had other plans. He made a step forward and then turned around. Their eyes were now locked, and he could notice by her expression that even she expected not this move from him.

Ben reached out to her. Putting his hands to the sides of her black tiara, he slowly lifted it off her head, her gaze not leaving him.

He looked at her, amazed by the metamorphosis. Those traces of viciousness he had noticed earlier had faded away. It seemed that 'Charmcaster' was now gone along with the diadem, and only Caroline stood before him. No mistake that she was the same person, the only person to offer him comfort in a twist of fate most ironic…

That moment memories began their wild dance in his head.

* * *

The green vehicle glided the road as smoothly as a skater upon ice. It was driven forward towards the centers of urbanism, leaving the vast, endless spaces of rural America behind. Yet its destination—the town of Bellwood—was still not on the horizon, and was not expected to appear in the distance in the shortest spans of time.

Ben closed his eyes under the sway of boredom and exhaustion. Finally, after all these hours spent either in the way or in fighting he could find some rest. Only darkness was in front of him, yet calm dwelled in its deeps. Still, slowly he exited it and he was once again surveying the green meadows that flashed in an endless line at the other side of the car's door.

He sat where his usual place was—on the backseat—the first row, traditionally reserved for his two teammates; the one driving, a tall muscular young man with hair of the color of a raven's wing. The one sitting next to him was in a bright contrast: a fragile figure with flaming-red hair hanging down her shoulders. Ben could not see her eyes, for she was not turned to him; however they differed little from his, sharing the same emerald color.

"I don't get it why are all these freaks so attracted to this planet?" Kevin spoke in his traditional cool-guy manner.

Indeed, that was an interesting question. Early in the morning Grandpa Max informed them about the detection of alien activities and sent them to explore this case. What the trio had discovered gave an impression of segment taken from the oldest and most cliché sci-fi films: alien robots. They had fought artificial extraterrestrials before, but it seemed the creators of this model lacked any rudiments of imagination. Simple metallic humanoid forms were definitely not an innovation.

"Unfortunately, we did not have time to find out," remarked Ben, "especially taking into account that you blew our cover," he sharply added.

"Oh, please Tennyson, spare me the lecture," the taller guy replied with a share of annoyance, "they were bad guys. They still attacked us and, hence, got their metal hides kicked."

"And secondly, do you think you would have acted differently if that smaller bot had come too close to your cover?" he added after a short pause.

"I think I would have thought for a moment before deciding to use my special abilities on him in the presence of his comrades…" Ben continued his verbal attack on him.

"That's also called strategy," he smirked.

"The strategy of being a hot head?"

"Oh, shut up," Kevin told him, now touched by irritation.

"Ok, break it up you two," spoke their traditional mediator, Gwen, after a sigh.

"Fine," the driver said.

"Ok," Ben nodded in a sign of agreement.

Nobody said a word for the next several minutes. It became too quiet, and Gwen was the person to fully understand this new atmosphere.

"Anyway, a fact remains a fact—they have been defeated, and if they arrive again, then we could raise the question again in relation to their case." She said what was supposed to be an epilogue to this heated conversation.

"So," Kevin said again after another several moments of silence, "did any of you watch that TV special about Big Foot yesterday?" he attempted to take the talk into a different stream, "I personally didn't?"

Yet this potential topic of discussion was not destined to be long. Even the best and fastest of stallions could fail its owner. Accompanied by a loud specific sound parodied a number of times even by small children, the car stopped in its pace.

"Shit!" Kevin proclaimed, enraged, gripping the wheel more tightly; only a bit more and it would be broken.

Yet rationality prevailed in the often uncontrollable youngster. The car door was opened, and he stepped outside. He opened the front of the car.

"This can't be good," the wielder of the alien watch commented.

At the same time he experienced a type of twisted joy, watching how the other male member of the team walked heavily to the back of the car to get the needed appliances, his facial features covered by the veil of anger.

"Perhaps we should accompany him," Gwen turned to her cousin.

He caught her emerald eyes with his gaze, sinking in them like in a swamp, unable to move. He felt his hearth beat faster.

"Ben?" she asked, dismayed by his silent, non-ceasing stare.

"Ah, what—"her voice finally brought him out of the trans.

"Sorry about that. I guess I'm still tired after that brawl. What was that again?" he quickly came up with an excuse.

"Let's go join him," she said and left the car following her boyfriend's example.

Ben was left alone for several moments in the vehicle before doing the same.

He joined them in front of the car.

"So, is it bad?" he asked, looking at the mechanics he had little understanding of.

"I have it under control," Kevin answered, yet the manner in which he pronounced it, slow and chilly, indicated its true distance from the truth.

"Perhaps…" Ben started, unsure whether what he wanted to say was intended to be a recommendation or a witty remark.

"Look, I can do it on my own," he angrily looked at him angrily.

"You sure, Kevin," the redhead asked.

"One hundred per cent, babe," his voice changed in a softer way under her influence.

For some reason even this comment made Ben grip his teeth.

"I'm too tired to help you anyway," Ben said in an attempt to draw their attention.

At the same time it was the truth. It was he who had reverted several dozen of their foes back into scrap in the form of the reptile-like Humongosaur.

"Then go to sleep, for crying out loud!" the other one gave a "suggestion".

"Can it you two!" Gwen interfered again.

"No, perhaps, I really should lie down," Ben told them.

The fight had truly worn him out and he was definitely not interested in watching the epic tale of Kevin Levin doing repairs.

"Oh no, Ben, how will you be able to sleep without your plushy?!" Kevin proclaimed and brought his hands to his mouth in a scene of a mocking horrific revelation.

"Kevin!" Ben's cousin crossed her hands on her chest, giving him a disapproving look.

"Ok, Ok, it was just a crack," the older guy laughed.

But Ben it did not matter to Ben.

"Ha, ha, Kev, you're so funny," he said unemotionally, giving him a glance before he once again got inside the car.

He took his boots off and accommodated the whole of himself on the backseat. He closed his eyes again and very quickly sleep overcame him. But, just like it, the awakening also reached him with unexpected speed.

As he sat up, it became evident he was now alone. His two comrades stood not before the front of the car. Ben got out of the car and looked around—they were nowhere in sight. The first thought that visited him was that this was a mere dream; Kevin and Gwen leaving him and the dark-haired youngster's car in the middle of nowhere dwelled within the realm of the impossible.

He looked around again. The scenery had not changed; by his side of the road only a field stretched; the darkened forms of tall trees stood in the distance. By the other side…a groove, just in ten or so steps.

Haunting thoughts patted the young man on the head. Perhaps it was not a dream after all. Above him, the sun's place on the heavens remained almost unchanged. He could not have been asleep for more than thirty-forty minutes.

Perhaps they had really abandoned him for some time? He was known to be a hard sleeper; in some circumstances perhaps even chunks of ice raining from the skies in an alliance with an earthquake would have been able to wake him up. Moreover, he could not remember any other vehicle passing them the whole time they had been on that road; he even had an impression it was not used very often, so there was not a serious reason to propose anything radical, like a possibility of theft, happening to it.

A possible explanation was developed in his mind, both obvious and shocking.

He felt an unseen force urge him to reach for the alien watch on his hand. As though possessed by some entity, he did so. A standard movement of his fingers, and the choice appeared on the tiny screen. He slammed his palm against the device.

Light, as green as his eyes, consumed him. When it faded into nothing, another shape stood in the young man's place. Tall and grim, Big Chill's radiated cold by its own presence. The alien flapped its wings, the limbs resembling a long dark-blue cloak, and within several seconds disappeared within the shadows of the grove.

Like a phantom he flew silently amidst the shades of the trees. Carefulness was his method, and doubtable that any mortal's eyes could have spotted the agile shape. His trek lasted for only several minutes.

He failed to spot the pair, but he did hear them…

Immediately, the light ghostly form raised higher, finding refuge in the head of an oak tree just in front of him. The other side of the oak opened a view of them, and in that moment Ben felt as if lightning struck him with all of its might.

His suspicions crawling in the beginning, strengthen by the noises he heard just several seconds before, were now confirmed by his eyes. Again an unseen force played with him, grabbing the alien by the foot, pulling him lower before finally accommodating him on one of the branches, protected skillfully by the leaves.

Ironically, Big Chill, a master of cold, was the one now frozen to the branch he sat on. He could not control any part of his body, unable even to close his eyes under the sway of shock.

Unfortunately for himself, Ben clearly saw everything below him.

Kevin lay on the ground, his eyes closed. His girlfriend was above him, her palms pressed to his chess. By the constant rhythmical movements her body made, up and down, there could be no mistakes concerning their activity. Her skirt, panties, and shoes lay on the ground beside them, and Ben, from his location, could see some of the exposed parts of her lower abdomen…

Her soft moans and his heavy breathing were hot copper poured into his ears. The figure of Big Chill sat motionless, but Ben Tennyson, its essence, was squeezed inside that shell. In those moments, Ben wished his mind and memory would leave him forever so that he could be able to walk the numerous roads of the world without a slightest concern for anything. Being a lost soul for an eternity was better than living with the image of the one true love of his life willingly pleasing his rival.

"Kevin!" the redhead shouted the name of her lover in intimate joy before erupting in laughter.

Ben managed to finally move one of his hanging feet, possibly Gwen's laughter somehow brought his mobility back. There was no alternative to the action he was going to take—carefully in an attempt to remain undetected, he retreated.

Back near the car he transformed to his original form. He came down to his knees, hitting the ground beneath him several times with his fist, trying to chase away his wildered emotion this way.

He felt betrayed. They had simply left him in his sleep for a chance to make out. Worse, they thought he would not notice their absence!

Ben stood up and approached the car. Enslaved by anger and other burning feelings, he spat on the car. Let that at least be his small revenge for their betrayal!

True, Gwen and Kevin had been officially a couple for some time now, and he had guessed that they had done _activities like that_ before. But witnessing it was like a strike with a dagger.

Yet, strangely, almost all of his anger was not dedicated to her but to him…

He wished Kevin had remained the monster he was nine years ago. He had a distant hope that one day the Gwen's boyfriend would once again become that monster and end up back in the Null Void where he would remain until his last days.

He entered the car and lay on the backseat—when they return, let them think in their ignorance that he had been asleep all this time.

As he was choking on his emotions, an image sparkled in his mind: a pair of eyes. However, their color was not emerald-green but sea-blue…

In all this anguish he had almost forgotten a shadow from the past he met again just a few days before and what they did together. A new feeling was added to the tempest inside him—want.


	5. Chapter 5

PART 5: A Nymph of Our Time

No matter what some people might think, the past cannot simply die even though preceding hours, days, or years get left behind. It would continue to exist, it can be found within any person picked from a myriad of people that populate this world today. One does not need a time machine to travel back in the past—he just needs to use his memory. By doing so, this person would stand at the crossroads of time itself, at one moment stepping into days gone by, and at the other—retreating to the present day. Hardly there could be an easier way.

Ben did so as well. Once again he now stood on the sandy coast of the small forest lake before his companion.

His trek to his recent memories had been short but had covered much.

"Ben?" he heard Charmcaster's concerned voice again. How long would it take the young sorceress to get an impression he had begun losing his mind?

He found his gaze bound to the black tiara he held in his hand. The mental image of Gwen on Kevin was so sharp and painful that it had taken him aback. He blinked once before turning back to the person he had just neglected with attention.

He looked at her, meeting her gaze. He could not be unable to marvel at those deep blue eyes that hid in themselves so much charm and thought. Even when his memories were playing games with the young man, they did not forget them. Now, as he looked at her, he could see concern being given away through those orbs.

"It's alright, Caroline," he finally spoke to her, reaching out to her, "I just remembered something," his hand cupped her chin.

"What exactly?" she asked in curiosity, but her tone had lightened.

He did not answer. With Ben's one step, the space between them disappeared. Then the young man, no words released, leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. That move reintroduced him to the taste of her lips, and her to his. It felt very sweet! They remained like that for what felt like ten seconds before he separated from her, somewhat unwillingly. Still, something needed to be done.

"Does this mean we've made up?" Charmcaster asked, raising an eyebrow, and curling her lips into her trademark grin.

Gently casting her tiara aside, he just as tenderly took her by the chin and once more brought his face closer until his warm breath was lightly tickling her ear.

"No," sounded the answer, caring but at the same time tyrannically confident.

With that he let go of her and made several steps back, turning around in the process.

In annoyance Caroline stamped her foot against the ground—he had turned his back on her again, literally.

However, anger did not lure her into its domain. It was obvious that Ben was trying to show off his pride. Yet one fact remained undeniable—he failed.

Still, he needed to learn another lesson…

Ben again felt her putting her hands on his bare shoulders. This simple touch was enough to send a pleasant sensation through his body, yet the young man preferred to fake a total ignore.

He then found himself in a tight embrace, a very specific one, as he felt the pressing of her now nude figure to his equally bare body.

The sensation brought about by her rubbing her breasts against his back was wildly answered in his groin. A bit more and he thought he would release it again…

He thought the sorceress could read his thoughts and decided to make them come to pass when she brought her hand to his testicles for another handjob. She circled their diameter with her smooth finger, making his breath stop for a moment. It then traveled further along his shaft. Then these actions were repeated in reverse, and a flashing moment later she literally grabbed him by the balls. Ben thought his cock would simply erupt.

"Caroli…ne," he breathed.

"So, Ben, are you still not talking to me?" she asked in a sort of mocking tone as she continued playing with his groin.

"I don't hear anything…" Charmcaster said in the same manner before he had a chance to reply.

"Am talking," he panted.

"I knew you'd say that," she chuckled lightly.

They remained in the same position for several more moments, their bodies touching, her hand on his testicles. The young hero would not have minded if she continued but these ministrations left him craving for more…

But then the embrace ceased. Caroline immediately made a compensation for it, with her unpredictability in a couple of swift movements the sorceress positioned herself on her knees on the sand in front of him.

Her body moved in such a way that her nipple was now touching the tip of Ben's erect cock. She continued teasing him in such a way, and slightly raised her upper body, making his member slide down her breast. Ben silently swore that he had probably never before encountered so many new sensations in one given day.

"I think I should help you get rid off the load inside," bringing her head closer, she kissed the tip of his cock before resuming a handjob.

The result was achieved when Ben's member erupted like a geyser, splashing the sorceress with its creamy contents.

As a content Ben gazed upon Caroline's beautiful figure, seeing his sperm slowly drip down her abdomen, another memory visited him, somehow using the nature of this moment.

—

The door opened almost immediately after he knocked.

It was impossible not to recognize the figure that now stood in the doorway before him.

"Ben?" Caroline-Charmcaster said, surprised, but certainly not completely astonished to see him drop in on her at her place of residence, "Please come in."

He followed her suggestion. She closed the door behind him and with a wave of her delicate hand summoned him to the living room.

The blanket of dusk had covered the skies outside, yet the room was brightly lit…even bright enough for her to read the pain engraved on his features like a scene in a tragic play. It was the look in her eyes that gave away her concern.

"Caroline," he addressed the silver-haired young lady.

"Ben, what's wrong?" she asked, trying to pierce his soul with her concerned gaze.

Perhaps she had the ability to read other's thoughts or perhaps the answer was simply too obvious, but she could swear she guessed what his problem was related to. Or who, to be more precise…

"I wanted to talk to you," he simply said.

"Very well then," she nodded, "maybe we ought to sit down," the spellcaster added and took him by the wrist with her hand.

That touch, so soft and peaceful, managed to calm the wild tempest that hurled within him. But only for one moment, for the storm reappeared in its almost full rage as they sat down.

Once again the scene from several hours before, Gwen and Kevin in the middle of a sexual act, sparkled before his eyes. In hurt and anger, Ben clenched his teeth. He could still hear the redhead's moans and the noises similar to those made by boar released by her partner. The young man wanted to bring his hands to his ears just to make them stop, yet, the reluctance to make a fool out of himself before the hostess stopped him.

It was hard; it had been hard.

The tempest of negative emotions that rose in him after he saw _them_ had been with him throughout the way back to Bellwood. He had not spoken to them in the duration of most of their journey, pretending as a sleeper. He had sat quietly throughout the leftovers.

When the pair dropped him off at his house, he did not turn his back to the road and step inside, he went to her…

"It's related to Gwen, isn't it?" she asked; only Gwen could have left these scars on his face with her invisible blade.

"Yes," Ben agreed.

His gaze slid from her, throwing itself on the coffee table. The surface of the object of furniture was empty; he did not know exactly why he actually did it. Again common sense made him turn to her.

"What exactly happened?" she gently patted his wrist with her hand like a kitten.

Her newest gesture made him soften again; however, it was not enough to overcome the tempest. In those moments his soul wanted to scream out exactly what had happened, what he had seen. But was that really the way?

No, it was too embarrassing. Perhaps it would be better to keep this incident in the darkest corner of his mind until his last days. Possibly it was just the influence of the moment, but he could not deny the possibility that his final days were destined to come soon…

"I don't want to talk about that incident," he quietly said.

"Sure, I understand" she nodded with a light understanding, even sad smile, "then what do you want to talk to me about?" however, curious by nature, she accepted the change in topic reluctantly.

Yet there was little Ben wanted to speak to anybody about in his present condition.

_Allow me to somehow help you._

He heard her words—the words she spoke five evenings before—a late echo in his mind.

She wanted to help him, and he was grateful for that. She proved it when they had ended up in bed together.

He had enjoyed that night with her, and few novelists could describe all the delight he had experienced as the two forgave their past faults before each other in such a way. He knew that he had desperately wanted a repeat of that session from the moment he returned to Kevin's car after witnessing what he should not have witnessed. He wanted, craved, needed to be with her, for she alone was the only one who could heal his pains with her caress. Charmcaster of all people! It was hard to imagine a more unpredictable turn of events.

In that moment he thought about his old love, Julie. His past romance with her had been limited only to a number of exchanges of kisses before they separated two years after the beginning of their uncanny relationship. It was around that time he began to understand his true feelings for his cousin, and he still wondered what role those actually played in their break-up. He still wondered whether what he and his mid-teen romantic interest had had even fitted the definition of a 'relationship'. Since then Julie moved on, found a new boyfriend, and saw new horizons in her sports career.

He gave his female companion another look-over. Lust had definitely overwhelmed him, for he imagined her lying between the sheets, her elegant purple shirt and shirt skirt not hiding her beautiful body. Lying next to him…

These thoughts made his mouth dry. He swallowed.

But what was the best way of informing her about his desperate need? What would she think if he said that?

"I…" he attempted to find the right words but for the shapeshifting hero it was like searching for ice in the middle of a desert.

He did not expect his own following actions.

Ben placed his other hand over hers before standing up and thus gently pulling her up as well. They were both now on their feet.

"Ben, what's the matter?" the silver-haired sorceress raised an eyebrow, yet her voice did not contain any shades of stun.

"Charmcaster…" the name unintentionally escaped his mouth, seemed like he still had not completely abandoned this habit.

"Ben, address me by my real name," she corrected him before he had the time to do it himself.

"Sorry, about that; a habit, I guess," on another occasion he would have probably blushed red from the name-related embarrassment, yet not in his present, edgy state.

"Caroline," he spoke the correct option.

Each second after that felt like an hour. Then the needed words appeared by themselves and as if having an existence of their own manifested in his statement.

"Allow me to stay with you tonight," now it was he who was patting the back of her palm, "I really need your tenderness in these moments."

He had not taken his eyes off her. He tried to spot any mimic on her face that could hint on her opinion on his proposal. He had to admit he had not planned it well, too inexperienced in dialogues that fell in such category.

He noticed the corners of her lips curving slightly upwards. One could wonder what this expression truly meant, especially taking into account who was before him.

"I understand," she nodded smoothly.

She freed her hand from his and stepped closer, so closer that their bodies met. She placed her head on his shoulder.

Ben had no answers. He could not even suggest what was there in her mind that shaped her decision both now and five evenings before. Was it pity, dislike of Gwen, or something else?

He raised his now free hand and put it on her back, beginning to pat. In response, the sorceress rubbed her head against his shoulder. Wrapping her hands around his torso, she pressed herself to him hard enough to feel, even through the fabric of their clothes, the person she had known, in a way, ever since he was a child almost a decade before, proving that he was now a man. This thought wanted to make her giggle. Ben's hand slid even lower, finding rest on her behind. She rolled her eyes, fascinated by his touch.

They both knew it was time to have some fun under the covers.

"Follow me," Ben heard her whisper in his ear just a split second before she separated herself from him, moving in her grace in the direction of the bedroom. Follow her he did like a serf followed the order of his master.

Inside the bedroom he watched in sweet trembling as the sorceress removed her clothes; first the shirt, then the footwear, followed by the skirt and undergarments. Ben marveled at her exposed form, and with each moment of staring he felt his hearth beat faster and the flames of desire burning mercilessly within him. He compared her body to a sculpture, a masterpiece, so perfect she looked to him.

Several movements, and she accommodated herself on the bed, sitting down on her knees. Caroline said no words, just gave him another deep look. Those blue eyes—her eyes—summoned him in a manner few words could have.

Under all these circumstances, for Ben clothes became a burden. He had a wild urge to tear them off even if it meant turning them into shreds of material, as long as it was worth it. Still, he was not that reckless. He frantically removed them, finally getting relief as if he had dropped chains. Finally, he was free from their iron clutches. He climbed on the bed and sat beside his partner. He reached out and took a strand of her long hair into his palm. Ben played with it using his fingers.

"You look like a sculpture that has come to life," the young man voiced his earlier comparison as a compliment.

He saw her smile touched by his flattering, making him delighted by it.

"Like Galatea in the ancient myth?" she asked, running a finger from his chin down to stomach.

"Yes," he replied, not certain whether he was fully familiar with the tale.

"How poetic," she whispered, leaning forward as an invitation for a kiss.

He did as hinted. For several seconds they sat like that, their lips mutually locked. She was the one to break it. At the same time, again her hand slid lower and gripped his member. Ben felt it harden even more in this miniature embrace. It made him let loose a deep sigh, indicating his enjoyment.

"And here I thought you had zero knowledge of classical literature," she murmured, lowering her body on the bed.

With a wave of her hand the lights went off—not another example of advanced technology, but of her skills in magic.

Ben placed himself above her. Following a path similar to the one Caroline had made just before, he started to pave her body with kisses, beginning at the chin. Her silent permission allowed him then to proceed to her neck; her chest was the next destination, and finally her stomach. Her whole body twitched as he did it. Caroline felt almost betrayed when he stopped—she expected and wanted him to continue even lower. As though trying to compensate it, Ben cupped her right breast with his hand. He brought his mouth to her, clenching her nipple between his lips. She felt his moist tongue tickling it. The upshot left by that action made her release a quiet erotic sound, her mouth wide.

Ben planted a kiss on her other breast before he slid inside her. Soon the room was filled with the noises of moans of pleasure joined with the sounds of a creaking bed.

—

"Still hard?" Caroline commented, touching his once more erect member with her finger, "Aren't you endurable?" she grinned.

"Well, how about an experiment?" Ben said in his traditional, easy-going manner.

"What sort?"

"You'll have to get on your hands and knees to participate," he replied with his own grin.

Caroline remained silent for about ten seconds, bringing her palm to her chin as one might do whilst pondering.

"Well, I did promise you a treat earlier, so…" saying it, Charmcaster placed herself into the suggested position.

Ben almost choked from the sexiness of the sight—no doubt Charmcaster had all the skills to be a porn star.

He got down, taking his place behind her, and put his hands on the young woman's hips. Ben entered inside her with his member; she moaned softly.

He remained still for the first several moments, adapting to the sensation of once again experiencing the pleasures of being inside Charmcaster. Ben made a singular thrust, making the figure of his partner quiver in reply. He then centered his whole focus on her as he began to thrust forward and back in her, the simplest movements.

He loved the irony; just a short while back he was pretending to be her pet. Still pumping her, he wondered how Charmcaster liked being a mistress now fucked doggy-style by a former pet. The moans she released in her satisfaction made asking her this question senseless—she definitely did not mind.

Ben gripped her tights as his thrusts became more fast, more vicious. The rhythm in which their bodies moved changed severely. Pursuing the pattern, Caroline's moans grew louder. Their shared delight groving stronger, he slowed his pace, and rewarded his panting partner with a light, but intimate slap on a butt-cheek.

They continued like that for some time. Eventually, Charmcaster's moans made way to a soft scream—he was aware of what it meant. Moreover, he felt the release of his semen approaching fast.


	6. Chapter 6

PART 6: Those Who Hear and See

The grim structure might have confused anybody. Some might have mistaken it for an old temple. Others, the ones more familiar to art would have seen it through their eyes as a Buddhist-like pagoda. Its architecture, the sides resembling a giant stone stairway, radiated a foreign, Oriental feel. A giant stone slab crowned its top, a symbol carved on it. The marvel of masonry stood silent, summoning all those who would end up nearby to enter inside, to explore it and the numerous mysteries it hid within its walls. An anatopism, something that was not supposed to be where it was, it haunted and beckoned.

Yet, as the Fates often have it, the first impression was a mistaking one. Only those who had lived inside it would have explained that it was not a place of worship but had been a residence. Was it a palace? Perhaps, but she personally considered it more of a mansion. The symbol that gazed upon the area from its heights like an eye of a deity had a meaning as well, a meaning only a few knew. It was not of foreign origins, and its true style had nothing to do with Orientalism, sans some visual similarities.

Once again Charmcaster stood before—the same place she and her uncle had resided in for so many years. She felt something twitch in her soul, a spiritual pebble falling on it. So that was how it felt returning home after almost two years of absence.

Home…

What an unusual word to describe the dark towering structure. On the other hand, it, more or less, fitted the term.

Charmcaster gazed at it. The building remained in the same place it stood the last time she was there—in the middle of a glade, surrounded by an entire forest of pines, even taller than it was. Indeed, it had had switched places before, courtesy of Hex's magic, even to the outskirts of Bellwood on one occasion. However, in this case the town was far.

The grey cloudless sky had frozen way above her, displaying no motion whatsoever, not crossed even by a distant shape of a bird.

Charmcaster knew what she had come for—she had wanted to drop in on her past place of residence, to see how it had changed in the more than twenty months. This wish felt so natural, as natural as the succession of winter by spring.

It took a bit for her to gather herself together before finally walking further towards it. She felt that symbol, that pupil carved on a stone orb, stare at her from its high post as if it was testing her on worthiness.

The palace proved itself deserted from the inside as well. She walked the shady, empty halls and ascended the numb ladders only to see an infinity of doors, each leading into other rooms and galleries. Luckily, there were enough sources through which the fade light outside was capable of bringing the slightest of brightening.

The sound of her elegant steps on the bone-white marble floor echoed across the hall. In the past, she made nothing out of it, yet this time it carried in itself a sinister breeze that even made Charmcaster, a former resident, almost shiver. All was so familiar that it even brought memories; at the same time the difference that had emerged between the past and present of this place had become as wide as a moat. A fact remained a fact, the magic which Hex had fused with this palace died along with him, and all what remained was a cold, abandoned, in need of renovation building.

She opened one of the doors, a creaking and rotting obstacle in her way. Charmcaster stepped inside the newly rediscovered room. The space was long and wide like a true hall. It lacked any decorations: no frescoes embellished the walls and roof, and no rugs covered the floor beneath the sorceress's feet. Only a window, a low-quality substitute of a Gothic rose, had been shaped high on the opposite wall. Yet it was in this room present the very thing that has been a constant companion to buildings such as this for countless years. No, there was no treasury full of gold, silver, or gems. It had served not as an armory and did not display armor and helmets, blades and lances, like a museum would.

Instead long shelves ran from one end of the wall to another; both at the left and the right. On each shelf books stood in a long row. Their number was infinite, and Caroline doubted that even her uncle, not even taking her into account, had known how many actually were there. Hex's library was truly great, having all the chances to rival the collection of earlier men of knowledge, possibly even suppressing those.

She slowly walked by one of the roves, looking at the tomes. She pulled her hand forward, planting her fingers on one of the books, reintroducing herself to their specific in a slight way, even putrid feel. It was no wonder; perhaps some of them had been around since the times of Gutenberg, changing owners throughout the centuries. Some might have been scrolls surviving since the Great Library of Alexandria. She remembered her past, her early teens, when she used to come here and in her curiosity go through different tomes so to gain more knowledge in the art of dark magic. It had been especially hard dealing with the ones written in old languages, Akkadian and Latin, Syriac and Hebrew, but still she had spent entire evenings listing the pages. These memories wanted to make her giggle, yet the matter, in context of her past, was not a laughing one.

She took one of the books from its place and headed towards the table. Charmcaster sat down on a stool, placing the book before her. A second after the book was open, and the writing on the first page appeared before her gaze. The enchantress did not even read the scripture, only distinguishing from the style of and layout that it was probably Old Germanic. It seemed the clocks of time had turned back. Like her earlier self had done years ago, she just went from page to page, looking at the sheets that had been re-colored yellow by time.

However, there was no point in doing these for a long span of time. With a quick movement of her hand, she shut the book closed. Her actions were now completely reverse—standing up, she moved back to the shelves.

As Charmcaster put the tome back in its right place, she heard the door creak again, an irritating noise that was a momentary nuisance to ears and mind, due to the atmosphere of the abandoned place. She silently condemned herself for not closing it properly and felt a destructive urge to cast a magical bolt at it, turning it into specks.

She turned around and…felt her feet freeze to the unquestionably cold floor. Every part of her being trembled at what she saw.

In the doorway stood a familiar figure, clad in dark-scarlet robes. A hood of the same color covered his head. Yet the face remained revealed. She could not use the word 'visible', for the make-up he used in the past had fused with the skin of his face permanently, like a tattoo, granting it a milk-white tone. Charmcaster's eyes, the part of her she was still able to move, met with his, and for a moment the young sorceress thought she was looking at somebody else. The flame of despise and wickedness that had burned in the eyes of the person she knew on any occasion, like the fires of hell, had gone out, and all she could spot in his look was emptiness...the emptiness of a void.

She could not believe in what she beheld. He was not supposed to be here now! For that matter, he was not supposed to be anywhere in the physical realm now!

Hex had died, and that was a fact—she had visited his grave. But then _what_ was standing there in front of her?

Hex—the one who was there—made a step forward. Strangely, the sound of a boot hitting the marble beneath it did not sound, though the step seemed quite heavy. As though the warlock had made no movements at all…

Her eyes already as wide as possible, Caroline thought her heart stopped for a moment, such an effect this had on her. A feeling of not just insecurity, but plain and unbinding fear overwhelmed her. She wanted to conjure up a portal just to get out of here. She did not want to find out an explanation to this phenomenon; she did not want to look around her former home. She just wanted to flee the place that did not just feel like a mausoleum but turned out to be haunted as well. She was ready to chant the needed incantation.

"Welcome back, my dear niece," he proclaimed in his traditional solid manner.

His words worked better than any enchantment did—Caroline was completely taken aback, her earlier intention beyond completion. Like a confused and frightened child, she gazed at him.

"Uncle Hex? How is it possible?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Hex released a quiet laugh which, echoing throughout the library, nevertheless poorly hid in it demonic tones.

"Ah, Charmcaster," the warlock waved his head slightly.

The young sorceress spotted a grin full of an impossible amount of viciousness spread across her uncle's face. Something made her make a step back.

"You have failed to learn much from me," his expression calmed, and once again all emotions disappeared in his gaze.

"Even death itself is unable to bind me!" he said in a sudden, unexpected by her, burst of triumph, "so great my powers are!"

Softly and even graciously, in an unnatural way, what seemed to be the late sorcerer walked to his niece.

"And this means that IT has been unable to separate you from me…" he whispered as he slowly drew his gloved hand forward.

In those seconds Caroline felt not just her feet but her whole body freeze under the sway of dread. She immediately compared her situation to the horror movies she had seen in the normal part of her childhood. Vampires reaching out to the necks of their victims in order to nourish their thirst for blood, zombies grabbing they prey to feast on their flesh—scenes and comparisons of this nature twirled in her mind and imagination, squeezing her from within.

Yet the phantom before her did not grab the young woman by the throat—it lightly felt on her head. He patted her head like a master would pat his pat, as she watched it with wide eyes unable to do anything.

"You missed me, didn't you?" the sorcerer asked; his palm stopped on the back of her hair.

"Yes…" she managed only to whisper.

She could not say anything else—she would not have made any alternate statements. In fatalistic suspense she awaited his next move. Her mind was full of memories of him. Especially sharp they had been when it came to the punishments he had subjected her to for her faults. She could almost feel that pain, the true representative of the old warlock's cruelty and his intolerance, poke her with its poisonous needles.

"So you've been a good girl when I was away?" he asked another question as though he was a caring parent, resuming patting her. She wondered what he meant by that phrase.

"Yes," she nodded. If anybody else saw her now, would he or she recognize Charmcaster in this frightened and scared creature?

Hex lifted his hand and made one step back, his undead gaze still tied to her.

She heard his hand cut the air like a saber before his palm met with her cheek. The young woman cried out as the she became familiar long ago returned to her. She immediately was able to regain some of her movements, bringing her own cold palm to her reddened and stinging cheek. Another slap sounded when Hex repeated the same action on her other cheek. Her eyes began to water.

"Uncle?!" she asked, giving him a look of hurt.

"I would have never thought that you would grow up into such a slut!" he shouted, and in this moment she saw the hellish fires that had burned in his eyes in his life blaze once more in death. The restless shade of the sorcerer had become by now utterly undistinguishable from his mortal coil in both look and manner.

"Uncle!" she protested, not fully aware of the reasons behind his words.

"Do not play games with me, Charmcaster!" a bolt materialized in his hand, a red-yellow sphere of energy. He cast it at her feet, bringing her to her knees.

His wrath did not end with that. Again before her, he dashed his hand at her, grabbing his niece by her silvery hair. She cried out again as he pulled her by one of her locks. Though Charmcaster had become skilled in magic, her abilities failed to come at her call for aid. She found it agonizing to admit but it was true—she was the victim and it was her humiliation.

"Uncle, what for?" with the magic abandoning her, words could have been Caroline's only salvation.

"The dead hear and see everything, Charmcaster, and I did watch you even from beyond the grave!" he started explaining before awarding her with another slap on the cheek, "And I do know much," his hiss sounded to her ears like that of a serpent.

He took her by the chin, making sure the sorceress could not turn her face away from him.

"I have learned much about your life," he squeezed her chin in his hand, making her blink, "and know who you sleep with…"

She thought lightning struck the ground next to her when she heard his last words. He knew; Hex knew. She was sure her face became red from shame as though she was caught in the middle of it…

"Uncle, I can explain," she whispered, trying to find a suitable reply.

"I do not want to hear anything!" the warlock shouted again and roughly released her.

With a look of disgust he departed several meters from her. Her eyes were still on him while her soul was screaming.

"You are a whore and an embarrassment," the sorcerer said in a cold conclusion before he disappeared in thin air.

Her eyes shot wide open. Breathing heavily, Caroline sat up on her bed. She vanquished the darkness that stood before her eyes with a wave of her hand—the light went on. Charmcaster looked around herself once more before coming to a conclusion that what she had seen was in a dream. Yet this realization did not bring her relief, for one question still plagued her. She heard Hex's words repeat in her ears over and over again as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Was ALL of it just a nightmare or maybe her uncle had refused to leave her alone even after death?

———————

**Author's Note**: Feel free to leave any reviews and suggestions (to be honest, I currently cannot decide the direction in which this story ought to be turned).


	7. Chapter 7

PART 7

_Charmcaster's POV_

Still, my questions remain open. How and why did all these things become a part of my life?

I have compared my life to a manuscript written in an ancient language like the numerous tomes left in my uncle's library. However, no matter how often, how much, or how long I attempt to read it, the silent glyphs refuse to reveal their meaning. Perhaps I am simply not fluent in their mysterious language? Maybe I cannot make out the handwriting? Perchance, I am running too fast with my investigation, while the source of this difficulty lies in my inability to identify the author of this manuscript? Everything is possible.

Possible, possible, possible…

I sometimes feel my head spin from thoughts of this kind. Why and how?

The moment I open the door to the past and step inside…I immediately want to turn back and close it. When I think over the full picture of the present, I wave my head in confusion.

On a number of occasions I have identified my past with the 'dark absurdities'. Yet, upon further look it becomes evident that everything is the other way around. Moreover, those go beyond it and even my present fits that definition well.

Past and present—the antonyms that have become synonyms in the dictionary of my life.

Gripping my willpower as hard as I am capable of, I once again step inside my past. And I see _her_. A girl in her mid-teens, clad in a purple trench coat, her long silvery hair gathered in a ponytail, standing near a fire next to another familiar figure, tall and grim, amidst a barren, rocky wasteland, like pagans during a ritual. The next thing I know the pair breaks in to an amateur magic convention in a cloud of smoke. Then a fight follows. I watch all of this like a performance in a theatre, as though I am sitting in the audience. At the same time, I understand that this is _wrong_, not just what that girl and her mentor are doing, but the very fact that I am looking at it from aside. I am not supposed to be the viewer—I am the main actress, I_ am_ that girl! Or I had been her in the past. This tale ought to have been told from first-person, not narrated by somebody or something else!

I then see other scenes flash before my eyes. I see her making some potion on an old vessel, standing alongside her nine allies at Mount Rushmore, or riding in Levin's car. I see other acts of this spectacle; some can be considered sequels, the others taken for prequels. That girl might grow older, she might change costumes or take guises, but I still recognize her.

Newer episodes are being aired as I continue to watch. They are what make me understand how thin the line that separates the past and the present actually is. These events happened not long ago, even recently, just like they might be repeated within the next hours or days.

I again see myself, but this time in the company of a brown-haired young man, the same person whose earlier form can be found in my memories. We are not battling each other in these new clips. I am not casting my magic at him with the intention of taking him down, and he is not taking the guise of an alien for a showdown—not at all. We—he and I—might be sitting on the sofa and talking; though I do not hear them, the expressions on our faces reveal the seriousness of our conversation. He might be holding me in his embrace or vice versa. And on others…we are locked in lustful activities, whether indoors or under the open sky, in the middle of which I would have been too ashamed of being caught.

As though I flip a page back in a book, I return to that convention when we first met (and battled, for that matter). I wonder what would have been the reaction of the silver-haired teen, my past self, if in those moments she had found out the consequences of the games the Fates play with her.

The show ends, and I may now return to my routines. Yet no matter whether I am at work, looking out of the window, or combing my hair, my mind keeps returning to Ben.

It can be said that I have been able to do what my uncle and my short-term allies from the Negative 10 have failed. Even the thought of it makes a smile curl my lips. It can be said that I got my hands on Ben Tennyson. However, irony has no limits. There was no need in any ingenious plots; on the contrary, the way everything has turned out was definitely in contrast to the realities of those days. Moreover, it can also be said that he also got his hands on me…

I would not have believed it if I had not been the one to experience this. My sway over Ben is solid, but I have not planned it just as I am not taking advantage of it.

Only several weeks have passed since the day I met him again after a gap of several years, but our new 'team' is probably more solid than the Ben-Gwen-Kevin one. He might go with them on all sorts of missions, spending all that time in the company of his cousin and the person her heart belongs to. At the same time that pair consists of the one that broke his heart and the rival to whom he has lost his love without a single battle, so it is not hard to imagine what happens in the young hero's wounded soul as he has to witness their flirtations or kisses. But after the job is done, it is to me that he rushes, and what follows are the nights we spend together between the sheets, nights full of passion, tenderness and delightful moans.

Yet even what leaves the fondest of memories makes me raise a question. Why have I granted him access to my bed? When I think into this I discover the absence of a true answer and what I am left with is a deep pot in which I can mix speculations like magic potions.

I do not even know how to call what I and Ben do. Are we making loving, having sex, or just fucking?

I can end all of this, tell him that we cannot go on like that…but I do not want to do this.

I want to believe that I just wish to help him overcome the problems in his love life.

Perhaps I had been corked up for too long and it is in Ben that I have found the paint to add more colors into my life and times.

This might as well be a type of revenge to Gwen for defeating me on several occasions in the past. Ben loves _her_, but, heartbroken, he turns to _me_ for comfort, kisses _my_ lips, and_ I_ wake up in his embrace after steamy nights. If Gwen is the Laura of his tale, then I am his Thaïs.

But one possibility frightens me. The dark absurdities were not just in my past—they are still with me, only in a different incarnation, otherwise I would not have been asking such questions. The same applies to my uncle, Hex. Even after death he haunts me in my dreams just as he virtually haunted me in life. Does this mean that the person I used to be, Charmcaster, is still with me as well? And everything what I am doing is a part of some insidious plan I am yet to understand? After all, we actually are one—a fact I have never denied. Am I a Valkyrie in the guise of a guardian angel?

Everything is possible, and that's what I'm afraid of most.

Still, whether tomorrow or next year, I hope fate reveals the answers I am looking for.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: Hi everyone! Upon rereading the previous chapter again, which at first was supposed to be the last one, I got the impression that the fic felt incomplete, so I decided to continue it. Oh, and I believe that exploring a potential interaction between Gwen and Charmcaster would be a fun thing to do.

CHAPTER 8

Kevin E. Levin was not the guy somebody would want to mess with. He himself knew it, a number of others he had come across knew it…However, the thugs in front of him probably did not. How unfortunate for them.

The dark-haired young man gathered his fingers in fists, raising the latter into preparation for a fight. His gaze, confident and mocking, dropped from one foe to another. He waited for the moment when it would finally be revealed which one in the trio before him was the dumbest; his method of testing—finding out who was going to throw himself at him first.

One of the criminals slammed his fist into his open palm. Kevin granted him another look, a look that did not reveal what thoughts and emotions danced in his mind in that moment. The figure he looked at reminded him an ogre from a fairytale. Incredibly tall as incredibly muscular, the guy seemed to be the type asking for a fight most of all. His skin gave the impression of being as hard as an elephant's, and a green Iroquois crowned his head. As for his facial features—one could become sure that the grunt lacked even a distant glimpse of intellect just by looking him in the face.

"What a lucky day," said the grunt, repeating the gestures he made just a few moments before, "not only did we steal a good amount of jewelry, but we've also found a wimp to pick on."

To Kevin that line served like a red cloth for a bull. He could feel anger, hot and fast, flow throughout his body just as blood would flow through veins. His test ended before it even began: he seized to care which one of them would attack him first: by the current state of affairs he himself would be the first one to strike.

"A wimp? Did you…just call me…a wimp?" he addressed the grunt in an enraged cool-type manner.

"How about you come closer and repeat your words, bitch?" he summoned him with one slow wave of his hand. At the same time he clenched the fist of his other hand even tighter.

"Yes, he did. And I second it." sounded the whisper of the grunt's companion.

The second thug differed from his pal in almost different aspect. Though about as tall as Levin, the type was, nevertheless, thinner. As the dark-haired young man looked at him, he could not shake the feeling that this character suffered from some serious disease, so life-drained his gaze and features were.

"Have you been to the dentist lately?" Kevin threw him a witty remark. Indeed, the thug always kept his unnaturally big mouth open, which, to the crack of his opponent, lacked teeth.

"You're gonna regret your words when I give you an acid wet Willy," the freak hissed.

Kevin experienced an extra dose of anger.

"You Circus Freaks are really asking for it," a hot-headed person by nature, Kev felt his teeth now clenching just as his fists.

He had come across them by coincidence, spotting their work while he spent his free time with his true pride and joy—his car—driving in it through the city. They were exiting the scene of the crime, the closed jewelry store, in that moment and disappeared in an alley, and, naturally, he dismounted his stallion, and followed. It was in the alley where he caught up to them.

They continued to stand there in the same positions for several more seconds. Dusk had already fallen, and from the beginning the only thing that illuminated the place was the sole lamp.

"C'mon, retards, are we going to stand like this all night?" he told them off, "Let's just get it over with, so I can make you eat each other's tongues for calling me a wimp."

Immediately, he pulled himself downwards, dropping his hands to the ground before he absorbed the concrete. One of the villains, Acid Breath, even blinked amazed by the metamorphosis. He who had been of flesh and bone just a fleeing moment before now stood as a chunk of living concrete.

It was the only female member of the villainous team who made the first move. In a well-performed acrobatic movement, she flew above the dark-haired young man like a snow cone, landing on her two behind him. Even in a situation such as this one Kevin thought himself wondering how she managed to be so agile, taking into account that her locks ended with what seemed to be barbells.

"Time to take him down!" she proclaimed.

The grunt charged at Kevin.

"Finally, now we are getting somewhere!" Kev congratulated his adversaries with their enthusiasm just before he caught the giant's fist in his palm.

Thumbskull brought his other fist to strike him, yet the same thing was repeated by his rival. Kevin did not lose time and introduced his now solid foot to the stomach of the big guy. It had its effect, and the criminal retreated back, his hands—released when the hit was made—now on his stomach.

The other thug used the time to act. From his mouth he shot a stream of acid, yet his adversary jumped out of the way in the right moment. Still, the green liquid continued its flight, and would have met another victim if the latter had not followed the hero's example.

"Hey, you almost hit me with that puke of yours!" the woman shouted at her comrade in anger as she shook her fist at him.

"So what's your point?" Acid Breath countered, his tone openly displaying that he cared little if at all.

Having overcome the previous strike, Thumbskull threw himself at the enemy in rage like a wild beast.

With no strategy whatsoever, Kevin made a jump for it and used the most standard stunt on his opponent, a punch in the face, only more hard and with a concrete taste. Unfortunately, he was unable to land the way he wanted.

Like a pair of tentacles, Frightwig's monstrous hair wrapped around his feet, pulling him in the direction of his mistress as he was still in mid-air. Thumbskull, as though he was beyond any pain at all, grabbed him by his hands.

Now Kevin understood what it was like being a rope.

The acid-breathing freak came closer to the caught foe. The young man tried to get himself out of this mess, yet his position did not allow a broad range of potential escape ways.

"You might turn into anything you want, loser," Acid Breath hissed in his vile manner, "but this type of acid will melt your head on any occasion."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Kevin carelessly remarked, "could you finally do it already. Your words make me want to burp."

"You're dead," commented Acid Breath before making another hiss in an indication that he was about to finish all of this.

_Sorry, babe, I guess this means the date we planned for next week won't be happening_, Kevin gathered his thoughts in a silent apology to Gwen like a farewell telepathic message. It was truly a bad timing for the redhead to be outside the town in preparation for an interview at the university she was planning to enroll at. As he awaited the blow that was expected to be fatal, he felt time stop and in his mind he quickly relived the main events of his life, tragic and ridiculous, dark and redeeming.

But then, like fate's ironic punishment, a cloud of vapor came from above, consuming the form of the would-be executioner. As it dissolved it became certain that the figure of the freak, sans his head, had gotten locked in an icy cast.

"What the f—" the ill-looking villain protested, immediately dropping his previous plan.

He turned his face up examining the skies above him. What he was looking for was not unnoticeable. A giant mouth-like creature floated above them, the flapping of its wings unheard by those below.

"Sorry to break your party, Circus Freaks, but killing him today is a big _no_," the creature's whisper could have rivaled that of the acid-shooting criminal.

Like a winged predator, it dropped towards them, flying towards Thumbskull, who seemed to be his first choice of prey. Whether it was of cowardice or a part of a plan, the grunt was not looking forward to finding out the consequences of a collision with the cold-bearing alien. At the expense of Levin's captivity, he jumped aside.

Free from the ogre's iron grip, the concrete-fused man had no other path than the one that introduced him to the ground. Luckily, his condition made him unable to feel the pain typical of such a contact.

Immediately, he rolled over, grabbing the locks of the femme fatale that had wrapped around him.

"Have been in this pose all this time?" Kevin asked as he looked at the owner.

He would have raised an eyebrow if he had been in human form—Frightwig 'stood' on her hands, her joined feet pointed at the sky, a skilled acrobat she truly was.

"It's a good act," he congratulated her, "but you're still gonna fall!" With that he pulled the villainess by the in all his unspent energy. She yelped as her balance broke and ended up on the cold concrete.

Easily unbinding his feet, he jumped up, dashing at the trapped Acid Breath, who had missed the right moment.

"So what were you planning to do to me?" Kevin mocked the villain before knocking him out cold with a good punch in the face.

Adrenalin filling his head completely, Kevin turned to the others: the female freak was just getting back to her; two meters from her Big Chill kept the grunt distracted, hanging in mid-air.

"You handle the chick, Ben! The ogre is mine!" Kevin called out.

The grunt's words, especially 'wimp' played in the easily-provoked young man's head like a CD. He charged at the guy, knocking him off the feet with his mass. With his foe occupied by another contestant, the Necrofriggian incarnation of Ben Tennyson turned to the remaining freak.

"How many years are you still planning to be a nuisance?" Frightwig shouted, the long locks on her head moving like serpents, thus, granting her a more insidious look, as though she had been taken out of a medieval bestiary.

"Don't know," Ben answered in the mode of a simpleton, "For long are planning to be in the criminal business?"

Frightwig clenched her teeth.

"I don't know what you're made of, but I'm going to take you for one dance," she said as she lashed one of the locks at Ben like a whip.

Big Chill's form lost some of its characteristics, becoming similar to a projection. The hairy whip went through it as if the alien was merely a mirage.

At the same time a glow of purple color flashed beside the unconscious Acid Breath, getting automatic attention from the villainess. The first association, the one that comes from pure intuition and expertise, was with the cousin of the shapeshifting hero, so familiar this style was. Yet the one who appeared on that was not the same person the criminal expected to see, the hair color one of the diverging attributes. Still, she was unable not to spot something familiar in the newcomer, as though at some different place…at some past time…they had already met.

"Sorry, sis, but you are definitely not going to be dancing with him," the newest face at the scene commented. Again even that voice held within itself something recognizable…

"Not the best scenario, but, oh well, seems like I'll have to deal with both of you," Frightwig admitted just a swift second before launching one of her barbell-coronated locks at the shapeshifter's helper.

However, that was a move she learned to regret mere seconds after. A purple disk, energy its material, manifested in the hand of the young woman and she lost no time using it. The severed lock fell to the ground before her.

"No!" Frightwig shouted from the damage wrought upon her hair.

The spellcaster brought her hand forward, and a beam as purple as the previous bolt escaped her palm, striking the confused spellcaster and bringing her down from the first attempt.

In a flash of green Ben once again transformed into his true form.

"That was easy," he concluded.

"Yeah, very easy," sounded Kevin's sarcastic remark as he put the finishing touch by slamming the already beaten up Thumbskull against a brick wall.

"Now you can explain why you are here," he turned to the pair.

"Life is full of coincidences, Kevin. You weren't the only one to spot them. We did as well," replied the sorceress calmly.

"And by the looks of things, you really needed help back then," Ben remarked, a hard-to-interpret grin spread across his lower face.

"Ok, while I'm clear on that one," Kevin acknowledged.

Still, on an emotional level he prepared himself to counter any stunt; past experience with one of the pair along with, the strangest part, her presence in Ben's company had taught him enough to recognize the possibility of some trick…

"But I still have a number of questions rolling in my head, and they need answering…"


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9: The Muses of Different Arts

There was one thing that always made Benjamin Tennyson rejoice, regardless of any factors, whether it was the weather, health, or a possibility of potential alien invasions ruining it. That was when his parents were out of town for the weekend. In the absence of the parents, the son had become the ruler of the house. And he always took these moments to his advantage. In his mid-teens, when such occasions happened, the hero spent entire evenings playing video games or watching cartoons, at the same time lamenting deep inside the fact that his household was not subscribed to any of the "premium" channels. However, as time flew forward like an archer's arrow, his life progressed as well. Now, as his twentieth birthday was approaching, the young man could use the empty house for other types of entertainment…

He shut the door close behind him.

"Here it is!" he proclaimed, guiding his hand from one side of the entrance hall to another.

Daylight poured fourth from the window, illumining the spacious room.

"Yes, impressive," his guest replied, her neutral tone not revealing her true impression. Her gaze followed the same trajectory her friend's gesture did just seconds before.

Like a supportive travel companion, she followed him into the living room.

"You interested in watching a movie or something?" Ben asked, turning again to her, "Oh, and you know you can sit down."

The young woman did as he offered.

"Yeah, sure… as long it keeps you from reminding me that you won in today's training session every five minutes," she confessed in her sarcastic manner that the young man had learned to find adorable.

He fell on the sofa like a bomb.

"You knew I'd win this time," putting his hand on the back of the couch, he looked at her, "that's why you refused to make a _deal_ like last time."

He noticed her lips curving into a smile, and he had a good hunch why; just remembering the purgatory of being the sorceress' pet that he had gone through made him shiver like from cold in winter.

"Seems like I've failed to cast out all of your arrogance via it back then," Charmcaster lightly shook her head in a friendly disapproval.

At that moment, perchance under the sway of her comment, Ben imagined that distant scene reverse—where he was the master, and the silver-haired sorceress crawled to him in the nude, bringing him back the stick. This mental image had a completely different effect as he feel hardening in his lower abdomen.

"But at least you've learned one of the lessons—that you should not rely on strength alone," she continued, unaware of the processes that took part in his mind as she spoke.

"Oh, give me a break, Caroline!" though half of his mind wandered elsewhere, he, nevertheless, was still in the condition to analyze her statements, "it is not like I always slam on the toughest alien on the watch. I mean, I always recognized that the agile aliens are highly useful as well…"

"…it's just that I prefer the tough ones," he quickly added after a short pause.

After such a confession he could compare the gaze Charmcaster granted him to a one a teacher grants to a failing student.

"Okay, then," he shifted the discussion somewhere else, pressured by her special display of condemnation, "remember how we took down the Circus Freaks the other evening? I did use Big Chill to get Acid Breath cold feet."

The event of the day before was truly worth remembering. Of all possible days, stuff like that happened during the pair's first evening on the town. Ben never referred to it as a date—something within him did not want this occasion to be given this term—however, he had really felt that he needed to spend some time with the sorceress aside from training exercises and night-time "action". The only thing that was worse than spotting the robbery from a distance was noticing Kevin in pursuit of them. And Kevin E. Levin was definitely a person the shapeshifting hero was willing to see even less than the Circus Freaks.

Still the whole show had had its redeeming sides. Even now, as Ben sat on the sofa at his place, he could still see that picture in front of his eyes, the moment when old Kev was about to get some serious spanking. He still wondered what would have happened if the pair had not been there or had arrived on the scene too late. According to the acid-breathing thug, Kevin was about to have his head melt. Again Ben sailed the endless oceans of the _what if_. What would have happened afterwards? What would have Gwen done? For how long would she have mourned her deceased boyfriend before moving on?

He could see his redhead cousin wrapping her hands around his neck in expectation of comfort and a shoulder to cry on with words like 'I can't believe that Kevin is gone'. Perhaps in this alternate lifetime Kevin's grim fate would have laid the foundation of their future relationship? This automatically led him to think about the reaction of their parents as well as Grandpa Max could have had upon being informed on their potential relationship?

An entire timeline stretched into the unknown before him, an alternate timeline that died before birth. However, did it really have a chance to exist? Courtesy of Charmcaster's magic or mana-manipulating abilities, or whatever that was called, they had been able to arrive on the scene (or the rooftop that opened a view on the scene, to be more exact) unnoticed. They still had had the opportunity to see the fight, and the only thing that would have sealed the doom of Gwen's hotheaded boyfriend was non-intervention from the pair. Whether Charmcaster would have been able to react in time was beyond his knowledge. Moreover, no matter how strong Ben's hatred towards Kevin had grown in the last couple of years, he was unwilling to become an indirect reason of his companion's demise. That was not like him.

Moreover, upon analyzing his previous thoughts more thoroughly, he found himself disturbed by the scale the absurd could darken his mind. Mentally, he confirmed for himself again that he had no interest in Kevin's demise, a small scup of horror over the events he, Ben Tennyson, a hero, had imagined still lingering in the back of his mind. He needed to distract his mind from it.

He reminded, with an amused smirk and expression, how after the fight the dark-haired dude demanded an explanation of their appearance together.

"Seems like he's not the type to trust people," Charmcaster commented on the personality of the former juvenile delinquent.

"Well, you can't blame the guy for this one," whether he wanted it or not, Ben still had to take the role of his rival's advocate.

He leaned back on the sofa.

"Unlike me and Gwen, he does not have a Grandpa with an access to confident information, and it seems that my cousin never notified him on your reform."

Truly, back in the alley they had only a few lightning-like seconds to tell the skeptical young man the basics of this tale. Though he accepted their words, he, in his traditional manner, still promised to do some research on Charmcaster. Coming from Kevin that felt drowning in irony, for it could have given an impression that in his arrogance the guy had forgotten his own dark past and how little research had been made on him…

"I guess that does help understand his concern," she admitted, though her statement did want Ben to ask how she coped with such representations of distrust.

"But anyway, it's not like all of this is his business," he gave his female companion a type of verbal support.

She nodded her head, the pair of blue orbs sparkling as bright as ever.

Ben wanted to end this discussion; no matter how he tried, nothing positive came out of it.

"But still, I like it how you told him that the reason we were there together was because we had been on a training practice outside of town instead of…" her statement did not need a finish, for Ben had understood what the sorceress meant.

"Like I said, it's not like he's supposed to know of everything I do," he said, "but still, I could have sworn he even raised his concrete brow when I said it. He definitely left the scene totally confused."

"Speaking of doing stuff, are you interested in watching a DVD as I have offered earlier?" he finally returned to his first question.

"Sure," she said, but, surprisingly, stood up all of a sudden, "but may I first use your shower? I need to refresh myself after the real training today."

Ben gave her a look-over from her feet to the almost fork-like endings of the tiara. Silently he once again had to admit that the 'Charmcaster' outfit she now only used for stuff like training still gave her the dark-sorceress look.

"Yeah, of course," with a wave of his hand he guided her upstairs.

"You need a towel?" he asked, turning to her, as he stopped next to the door of the bathroom.

"No need, I can conjure one up from home, remember?"

"Yep," he nodded, "I'll make a couple of sandwiches while you're here. If you need me, I will be downstairs." By the smirk that appeared on Ben's face as he pronounced the last part, the young enchantress got the feeling his words carried a hidden sense.

"Ok, I'll keep that in mind," she informed him before closing the door from the inner side.

He stood outside before hearing the unmistakable sound of water running. Ben made his way to the kitchen. The first thing he did once there was taking himself by the chin with two fingers.

"_I really should have asked her what type of sandwiches she prefers_," he thought, overcoming the urge to spit at the floor for not figuring out such a simple equation.

Peanut butter? For some unknown reason, Charmcaster did not seem the type to like the flavor. Why exactly? Who knew! A lot of things in the world simply made no sense.

A one with an infinity of layers of meat products? He seriously doubted that girls ate stuff like that. At least Gwen didn't; that reminded him something that happened three years before…

Some salad sandwich perhaps? He felt himself almost puking at the mere thought of such a culinary horror.

As the standard Ben Tennyson way of doing everyday things usually had it, the young man continued to stand in the same place for probably several minutes, thinking over the existing options.

It took him a noise to snap out of such a trivial debate with oneself, a noise that for an unsuspecting person ran like a bell. Still, it was a bell…a doorbell.

_If it's that door-to door salesman Stanley again, I swear I'm gonna go Humongosaur on him_, he thought grumpily as he stumbled towards the door.

He opened the door. Ben was sure he would see the salesman or a couple of Mormon preachers, but the person that stood in the doorway was…

"Gwen?" he raised a brow, surprised, "I thought you'd still be outside of town for an interview with the University of whatever-it's-called?"

"Nice to see you too, Ben," she greeted him with a smile that made Ben's hearth beat faster, "but I only was going to be out of Bellwood for several days," she stepped inside.

"So how did the interview go?"

"I don't know," she said, her intonation giving away her suspense and fear, "they said they would reply in writing in a couple of days. I don't even know what to think: they're such a prestigious institution…"

"Same old Gwen," the brown-haired cousin parodied a yawn, "remember that school you wanted to apply to back nine years ago?"

"And you were one of the reasons I got a bad reputation with them."

"Hey! It's not my fault Ghostfreak went on a rampage across the campus!"

"No matter, I didn't come here just to blame you for my ruined attempt," she finally let the topic fall.

"Well, it's nice to know you came directly over to my house to say hello," Ben said, looking at her all this time, unable, as though by under some spell, to tear his off the flaming-haired beauty.

"Actually, I did hang out with Kevin for a bit before coming here," she confessed.

Ben thought he saw her cheeks reddened.

"_Figures_," he thought, grumpily.

"And he told me about a strange event that happened yesterday," she gave him a piercing gaze, "which made me worried," Gwen then added.

"Leave it to Mommy's Boy Kevin to blab on about everything," the shapeshifter was consumed by another wave of annoyance.

Gwen let out a cough in demonstration of her disapproval of these words.

"What?" Ben protested, "The guy simply can't hold his tongue."

"That's not the main point," Gwen continued to hold her ground, "since when have you begun going on training with Charmcaster?"

"Only recently," Ben gave the simplest of answers, fully aware that the interrogation was merely beginning.

"What is this all about anyway," she placed her hands on her hips, her gaze irremovable from him.

"Well, for starters. She can summon those rock golem thingies, and I must admit they make very good crushing material," with her eyes still on him Ben added, "What? They're magical artificial beings; it's not like I'm killing them—they literally don't have a life!"

"No you don't understand what I'm trying to say," she heavily shook her head, "you really ought to stay away from her. She has proven to be quite deceiving on a number of occasions."

"But you've seen her file; she dropped the criminal career back two years ago."

"Yes, and she also claimed that she wanted to help us against her uncle."

"That was nine years ago. I fail to see your point."

"My point is that she has always been capable of scheming!" Gwen said, now annoyance getting to her.

"Oh please, Gwen. I really doubt that after two years of doing nothing illegal she orchestrated me meeting her in the middle of the street for some dark purpose."

"At least I know now how you met," Gwen commented, "but still…"

"Gwen, I'm sure I would recognize a conspiracy when I see one," Ben told her in his fashionable always-the-certain-type style.

After several seconds of silence Gwen finally confessed:

"I know. I am not completely denying the possibility of her true reform. I just care about you, and do not wish to see you become the victim of your own sense of trust."

"Gwen," such a statement made him feel as if his neck was freed from a noose.

She had faith in him after all, even though she cared about him in a different sense than he did about her. Many times he wanted to tell her about her feelings, yet plain fear, an emotion with the clutches as solid as metallic bar, always grabbed him for an embrace.

He pondered what his red-haired cousin would say next, or perhaps it would be the end of the whole discussion. Yet as in an unknown number of occasions in one lifetime, Fate went for a gamble, throwing its dice.

"Ben, where are you?" sounded a voice which in this situation was as pleasant as the sounds of the sea but as frightening as a shriek of a banshee.

Like a spell, it made Gwen Tennyson change her attitude within one moment. No further invitations asked, the young woman stormed into the living room, her cousin, his mind filled with his own unease, behind her.

Gwen had never been a subject of memory shortages, and upon hearing familiar voices she could have easily told who those belonged to. Her memory did not fail her this time. Just as her ears, Gwen's eyes were also a faithful ally of hers, so recognition was unavoidable.

The person she used to consider her archnemesis—more, in a way, still an acknowledged one—stood on the lowest step of the staircase that led from an upper floor. What drove the redhead even angrier than seeing the sorceress in the Tennyson home was the manner in which she presented herself.

She wore no purple trench coat or short dress—a towel of the same color, wrapped around her torso, served as a substitute. Her long snow-white, wet at the moment, locks reached to her chest level. This image certainly diverged to the traditionally-expected gimmick of a dark spellcaster.

"Gwen?" the newcomer asked, as she made one more step before she ended up on the ground. Her eyes flickered with enthusiasm.

Again silence dominated the next couple of moments, and as these seconds flew by Ben could have sworn that would melt like sugar would melt in the rain—such an embarrassing moment it was.

"I didn't know there would be company," Charmcaster continued, surprisingly in a tone as if nothing strange had happened, "I'll just go get dressed, and I will rejoin you two soon."

With that she turned her back to her old adversary and slowly ascended the stairs. As this scene played before him like an act in a spectacle, Ben had no problem figuring out that Caroline managed to use this uncomfortable incident as a way to mess with the head of her rival. Strangely Ben, having once witnessed the intercourse between Gwen and Kevin, found himself supporting the stunt of his first guest.

"I see your point now," Gwen said dryly, her cousin unworthy of a look, before she did a trek opposite to her previous one.

Before Ben got himself together and trailed behind his cousin, the irritated young woman had already reached the door.

"Gwen, wait!" he said.

The redhead opened the door before finally turning to him. Ben found it unable to keep his orbs on her eyes and gaze that burned as strong as infernal flames.

"Let me guess. She was jogging in the area and asked whether she could take a shower at your place?" she started, crossing her hands on her chest.

"No not exactly…" he had no time to finish the sentence.

Anger reshaped Gwen's features even more as she heard this.

"Now tell me, Ben, these last couple of weeks, when you didn't come to train or hang out with me and Kevin, were you really busy as you claimed you were? Or were you spending the time in her company?" she asked accusingly, like an Inquisitioner.

"It's the latter," he weakly admitted.

"Well, I hope the _training exercises _you perform together are worth it," she continued.

"You do not see the full picture…" he attempted to defend himself.

"As if seeing her walk in your house with no clothes on doesn't tell me anything! I can't believe that after everything she did, you preferred sleeping with her to hanging out with us!"

"Calm down already, you've only seen one side of her, and the grudge between you two already causes you to start a storm over all of this!" if asked, Ben would have probably not known whether he was primarily defending Charmcaster or himself.

"Well, it's nice to know that at least you've seen her _different sides_!"

Under a mountain of accusations, Ben came at the edge of completely blowing his temper.

"How about you tell me what makes Kevin more reliable than her instead?" he shouted at his cousin, the words on his minds escaping by accident, no matter what latter consequences there would be.

The dart hit its target, and Gwen reacted to the wound.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore!" she yelled, a pair of tears sliding her, eyes before she stormed out of the house.

He stood there watching as Gwen's figure became smaller and smaller in the distance, a tempest of emotions ravaging his mind like that time in the grove…


	10. Chapter 10

PART 10

He stood there watching as Gwen's form shrank more and more before she completely disappeared from his view like a vision, like a mirage. Once again he felt betrayed, betrayed by the person he loved most. He had just wanted to reason with her, to convince her that not everything was what the eyes beheld. And what had he received in return? Accusations that were heavy enough to crush one under their weight; mockery comparable to those an angry crowd would reward a condemned criminal in the old days. Again his mind wandered from one to another: from Gwen to Kevin, from him to her. He experienced hurt the hurt caused by Gwen, but like on many other occasions rage gripped its icy fists at his lucky rival. His mind once again reminded him how deeply he despised Kevin over this.

Ben did not close the door…he shut it with such a force that it could have seemed that the anger of Rath, the unparallel might of Way Big, and the detestation of Ghostfreak united in one and possessed him.

He did not hear her approach him from behind, for his ears had disobeyed him, and only the light weight of her hands falling on his shoulders informed Ben of her presence.

"You saw everything," he quietly spoke, not a question but a confirmation.

"Yes," sounded the gentle voice behind his back.

He was not surprised; he knew about her skills. She after all did manage to watch them from a distance back four years ago.

"So what are you going to say about my behavior in Gwen's presence?" he continued, his back still turned to her.

"Nothing. I do not need to be a telepath in order to understand what you might be going through at the moment. Just make a deep breath and try to clear your head."

He did as she recommended. It did take a bit but just as Gwen's figure disappeared from his sight what seemed and actually were only minutes before, so did his thoughts fade into nothing, leaving only their marks, leaving only their steps.

He shook his head slightly so to completely overcome the paranoia that had completely consumed him in the result of the "discussion" with his cousin. He put his hand to his forehead, at least being thankful that he did not belong to the category of people who experienced headaches from breakdowns such as this one. In that moment he really, even though only for several seconds, began to think that he ought to turn to a professional therapist, for everything had begun to leave its assigned boundaries. Otherwise, he would one day just turn Fourarms and pummel Kevin into the ground using every limb.

Again Kevin! Again the revenge options against the half-Osmosian! Gwen is the one he should be angry at! Yet simply unable to hate her, he constantly turned his fury at her boyfriend.

He finally turned away from the door. Caroline removed her hands as he did. Indeed she had taken time to dress, and now stood before him in her Charmcaster dress though the boots and tiara remained missing.

"So what sandwiches are you into?" he finally asked her the question he forgot in the very beginning of it all.

—

He rested on his back, sweat, like a tear, tickling down his face. The cover aside, he lay exposed to the night air. Yet he did not care; the heat that radiated from his body as well as that coming from his partner made his bare skin thoroughly unaffected by it. Ben turned his head.

She lay beside him, the light of the table lamp enough to see clear and marvel at the features of her beautiful body. Her hand slowly caressed his chest, sometimes traveling as far as his shoulder and collar.

He made a satisfied sigh. As if independent from his mind, the shapeshifter's hand rose up and found rest on Charmcaster's right breast. His fingers played with her nipple, a game that was joyous to both partners. Caroline closed her eyes, she often did so—he wondered whether such method made it more pleasing for her.

Less than ten minutes before, they ended the most recent lovemaking session. Now his passions satisfied, he remained in bed, silently thanking her for all the times she had allowed him to experience the pleasures that arouse from the blending of their bodies. For all the times she had allowed him to experience her…

He had no idea when and how his bedmate had her first time, but back three weeks ago, in the very beginning of their first encounter, without any words he found out that he was not the first man she had done this with in her life. Even as she now lay next to him, his curiosity wanted him to find out more about his partner's past sexual experience, but just as his mind constantly stopped him from confessing to Gwen, he could not ask Charmcaster for the same reason. His hand now journeyed to her other breast.

His newest gesture was countered by hers when she took him by the hand, gently pulling it away from her, before the sorceress sat up. She changed her pose in moments once more as she accommodated herself on her knees. Ben, remaining in the same position, gazed at her body and face as though trying to record this picture in his mind forever.

"Perhaps you'd like to look from a different angle," she said in a sultry voice, leaving Ben question the sense behind her words. However, he found out it soon enough.

Charmcaster placed her palms on her bare shoulders; then she began sliding them lower. Ben watched almost mesmerized as the young woman clawed into her own breasts, cupping them; this naughty show provided an enjoyable massage to his eyes. Even though the light did not fully illuminate her face, Ben noticed that she once again closed her eyes. As she did this, the enchantress opened her mouth, releasing not loud moaning sounds. This show truly brought his full attention, and Ben began hardening, as he felt the indistinguishable urge of physical pleasure clutching him in the strongest mode.

Charmcaster's performance did not cease. Slowly and just like previously, she slid her right hand down her stomach before eventually stopping between her tights. Still cupping her left breast, she started an alternate action, rubbing her pussy.

Under the sway of the scene before him and Charmcaster's moans, random gasps began escaping Ben's throat. Then she moved her hand to her behind and performed the same action.

A bit more, and Ben felt he was going to come.

"Caroline, I—" he started.

She opened her eyes and directed her gaze at his member. The touches immediately ended.

"Once more?" she whispered, and in what appeared like one movement was over him.

Ben did not need to bother with anything—she did everything on her own. He again felt the familiar sensation as his member entered Charmcaster's wet depts. The sorceress planted her hands on his shoulders. She then took him for a ride, wild and mind-blowing, in a way even a literal one. She was bouncing on top of him, her superiority not in the least protested by her partner.

It did not take Ben long to come inside her.

The aftermath of the second round was similar to the previous one: the lovers lay next to each other in the heat released from their bodies. Ben watched her drift to sleep before thanking quietly thanking her for not abandoning him.

—

Like a past devout believer that had lost faith, Ben Tennyson walked around with no aim or purpose. Half of a day passed as the young man journeyed there and there, entering and leaving different places in Bellwood. Time itself walked alongside at a pace that could not be slowed down…just as it, to Ben's greatest misfortune, could not run faster.

The comlink lay in his pocket, and all this time he desperately expected that he would hear its signal, to hear a voice coming from this example of electronic equipment. In these moments, in his situation, this signal would become music to the ears. However, the comlink remained silent, the hot coals of Ben's hopes cast into icy water.

The worst part of being a professional Plumber, aside from the constant threats of being slaughtered by alien warlords or local sickoes, had proven to be, at least as he thought in those moments, the chance of not having any missions on the horizon.

Indeed it was horrible. He had had no calls from Gwen since their ravaging "argument" two days before. Perhaps the redhead still had not forgiven him this incident. Kevin had ceased contacting long ago on Plumber-not-related matters, ever since the stream between them turned into a real river. He really doubted that Gwen had retold her boyfriend her cousin's words—she was not one of those people. Still, he wondered what was on her mind all that time just as he speculated what she still thought wherever she was at that moment. Participation in a common operation would have answered this question…yet due to a lack of one the circle was complete.

He sighed.

Caroline was at work, so even she could not make him company. Seemed like he was supposed to aimlessly spend an entire day.

But even in times like this there was one person Ben could always turn to. Eventually, he reached his whereabouts.

Standing before the door he made one final debate with himself, evaluating whether he ought to carry on. The positive arguments—even though he did not know what they were—overcame their equally mysterious rivals. His fist came down on the door a couple of times.

The door, the only entrance to this trailer, opened, revealing to him a figure that the shapeshifting hero would have recognized even in amnesia.

Whether it was in the present day, four or even nine years before, Max Tennyson always remained the same. His hair had probably turned grey by the birth of his first grandson; his face had been crossed with wrinkles. Whether he always wore the same large red shirt or had been several copies of it, was irrelevant, as it was still on his shoulders. All in all, he gave the impression of being an example of the always happy grandparent you'd see in some family movie.

"Ben!" the old man greeted his grandson cheerfully.

"Hi Grandpa," came a reply spoken in an uncertain tone.

"Why don't you come in?" Max then said.

The young man followed his invitation.

A sudden sense of nostalgia stroke when he entered the old van. Almost nothing in the interior had changed since that golden period of his lifetime so many years ago. The Rustbucket had come to be the closest thing to a time machine. He could already imagine that in the next moment Grandpa was going to sit down behind the steering wheel, and the old transport would once again cross the whole of America.

He sat at the table, the place where he and his cousin had spent countless hours arguing.

"So champ, want to try some fried octopus with strawberry jam?" Max asked in his typical way.

Ben felt every muscle in him twitch the moment he heard this. He barely vanquished his need of throwing up right on the table. Sometimes he felt that his grandfather's actions were simply beyond good and evil.

"No thanks, grandpa," he quickly replied, the image of the delicatessen painted in his mind in all of its nightmarish stature.

"I just wanted to check up on you so to find out whether you are Ok," he then continued.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking. What about you?"

"I'm fine as well," Ben said. Surely a small lie for the greater good could in no way be compared to a sin!

"Gwen called me yesterday," Max then spoke.

Ben felt as if hot oil was spilt on his head.

"The reply from that university is supposed to come in a day or two. You know that?"

The young hero released a sigh of relief. At least Grandpa Max did not know about that embarrassing moment.

"Yeah, she dropped me a visit two days before, revealing the same thing," he said, "Do you think she'll get in?"

"No doubt about it!" he proclaimed.

At this moment a question visited Ben out of nowhere. He actually, and honestly, for the first time wondered what did Kevin think on this whole issue.

—

**Next chapter**: Gwen and Charmcaster have a "talk".


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

She had to stand up on the tips of her toes in order to put the book back on its rightful shelf.

Caroline never denied that the post of a library worker she got after her reformation was an incredibly boring experience. It always had been. However, with a couple of possible exceptions—and only possible ones, as it had to be stressed out—she could not name any other post she could have been able to do. She had spent her whole life among books: first by learning magic, then by improving her skills, and finally…her career at the library.

She knew that even thinking about something like this was a wrongdoing on its own…but the young woman had to admit that being a dark sorceress was more exciting. Here resided a contradiction in her mind. On the one hand, she wanted—no, desired—to stick all the memories of those days somewhere in the darkest deeps in the back of her mind. Yet even though she had often compared her past experience in malevolent sorcery to a residence in Hell, she could not find an explanation what exactly made it so fun, and why its flames continued their attempts to reach out to her.

She was about to make her way further, even made a pair, perhaps even three steps, when the young woman heard a voice calling her

"Stop right there!" was its recommendation—no, even a command.

She did not even need to turn around to guess who exactly dropped in for a visit. Her lips spread into a naughty grin; she really had the strongest of urges to have a chat with this person one-on-one.

She turned around. Truly, Gwen Tennyson stood just several meters before her.

"Gwen Tennyson, what a surprise," she put her hands on the hips.

The female Tennyson cousin, as she speculated, all this time remained faithful to the same style; that eyesore of a red shirt could have testified as one of the most important witnesses.

"I came here to have a word with you," the redhead said.

Caroline recollected in her memory the event that happened just a couple of days before. She once again relived that scene as she had done with many others. Once again she saw Gwen's shocked gaze as the redheaded girl saw her old opponent in Ben's house clothed only in a towel. Princess definitely had not seen that coming!

"Sorry, Gwen, but I can't do it right now. You'll have to wait until I go on a coffee break," she said it in an unconcerned manner.

Gwen gave her look with a sharpness that cut have cut even diamonds.

"This is not a trivial chat, Charmcaster," Ben's cousin said.

"Well then, you and I will definitely have to wait for it. Like I said earlier, lets discuss whatever the matter of your visit is during my coffee break. Meet me in the park just across the street in about forty minutes."

"Next to the fountain," Charmcaster then specified.

Gwen remained silent for the next few seconds.

"Be it your way," she said crabbily.

She withdrew her cell phone, checking, as it seemed to her old enemy, the time.

"You do realize you are supposed to keep those turned off?" Caroline reminded the rules of the library in a light mockery.

"Forty minutes," Gwen said before turning away and leaving.

Caroline made her way to the wall clock.

"Thirty-four minutes to be more precise," she said to herself.

No matter how many years had passed or would pass her grudge against Gwen remained almost as strong as it was back nine years ago when it first ignited. She was definitely looking forward to this meeting.

Gwen stood at the mentioned landmark. Water was erupting from the fountain like lava did from a volcano. Some of the drops flew at her, leaving positive feelings when they fell on her wrists and neck. The wind was just as positive. It played with her hair, it refreshed. The sun was shining, its rays not a burden to anybody. Gwen loved this type of weather: when you did not have to drag your feet due to the unbearable heat or grab yourself and shake from the frost.

The park was not crowded. She watched as random people went by: teenage couples, mothers with carriages, old people.

"_I never hanged out with Kevin in this park. This place doesn't seem bad. Perhaps we could give it a try_," she thought.

"Nice weather, isn't it?" she heard the unmistakable voice behind her back.

She turned around to see the young woman leaning on the stony confinement of the fountain.

"Yes, it really is," with no other words coming at first, she said.

"By the way, Gwen, if it's no secret, how did you manage to trace me to the library? Did you do it via tracking my mana aura?"

"You haven't forgotten the theoretical part of it, Charmcaster. Yes, that is correct. And aside from that, I also have a library card there; I simply haven't been there in a long time."

"So anyway, we have less than thirty minutes, so, unfortunately, our discussion still isn't destined to be a long one," she said as she approached the Tennyson cousin.

Gwen doubted that such a scenario was even possible. Charmcaster stood in close proximity from her, yet she did not bother doing what was typical of her. The silver-haired sorceress cast no magical bolts and summoned no golems. She just stood there, her gestures not revealing even the distant intention of using magic.

"You know, Gwen, I still cannot believe how many surprises life could pour on us. When I retired from my criminal career back two years ago I really thought that I will never see you or Ben in my life again," she smiled again, "but like I said earlier, our time is limited, and I you wanted to speak to me on an important manner. And I don't need to be an Oracle to predict what our conversation will be about."

Charmcaster brought her hand and stroke a lock of her snow-white hair back. Then she made her move, a swift and agile one. A slapping sound followed when her palm collided with Gwen's cheek. Her eyes watering slightly, the Tennyson cousin placed her hand on the now reddened surface of her face. She silently condemned exposing herself to the adversary's strike in such a careless way. Still, she would be ready next time…

"This is for acting like a bitch!" Gwen heard Charmcaster's voice poisoned with anger.

Her statement had an effect; the redhead felt her own rage filling her like the waters of a flood could do to a house.

"Acting like a what? Care to provide an example?"

"Like at Ben's house, for starters."

The stinging in her cheek mostly overcome, Gwen clenched her teeth at the taunt.

"If I remember correctly, you were walking around with no clothes on!"

"Is that your excuse, Princess?" The witch's voice once again regained the mocking tone standard to her four years ago, "getting weaker at verbal defense, aren't you, Gwen?"

"Not really. I just fail to understand how I am a bitch if you are the one screwing my cousin!"

"And I fail to understand your concern over my sexual life," the sorceress grinned.

At this moment, Gwen had an undistinguishable urge to summon all her powers into a bolt of mana and cast it at the Siren in front of her even if it meant killing her and going to jail.

"He is my cousin!" she shouted. Luckily, there were not any people by their side at the moment.

"I know he is. But what new are you trying to tell me?"

Gwen really wanted to punch her.

"Stay away from him, Charmcaster," she pronounced close to hissing.

"The name's Caroline," came a slight correction.

"I don't care. Just stay away from him."

"Then what do you expect Ben to do? Will it really be better if he starts touching himself when nobody's looking?"

The further this 'discussion' progressed, it became evident Charmcaster's trademark grin and the mocking features of her voice were destined to travel along with it. If the witch was intent on sticking to this manner, she would definitely trigger a catfight. Only this catfight would definitely end with the witch torn into pisses.

"You're simply messing with his head! I don't know what motive you have if you even have any, but your…" she paused, trying to find the correct word that could fill the gap in her forthcoming sentence.

She went through different words that were present in the vocabulary of her mind, but what was the one that fit best. Was it a 'romance'? Definitely not! From childhood she had associated a romance with something high. This, on the other hand, this could simply not be one…whatever Ben and Charmcaster had was much more primitive, the sorceress' expressions the best of hints. She would not have defiled the term by using words like 'sexual life' and 'touching himself'.

Was the word 'affair' more precise? No even an affair was above this.

"Your liaison must cease!" she finally found the best, to her understanding, expression.

She saw the smirk faded away from Caroline's/Charmcaster's face.

"Then perhaps you ought to have had this discussion with Ben rather than with me," she now spoke normally.

"I did not just drag him into my bed. I offered him and he accepted. Since then he began coming to me!" again traces of anger presented themselves in her voice.

"You don't need to fill me in on the slightest details, you know," Gwen commented.

"But you did want to talk to me on _this matter_. And, hence, things like that are also related to the topic."

She then continued:

"There is a reason why he accepted my offer and has spent a number of nights with me. He truly needed somebody to grant him comfort after a certain slut broke his heart."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. Her opponent surely had access to private information. However, what made her puzzled and dismayed was that Ben, ravaged with what seemed to be a serious burden, had not shared his problem with his two teammates. She wondered whether Grandpa Max was even aware of this. But the knowledge that Ben preferred to turn to…a past nemesis…instead of sharing his troubles with his closest people…was practically incomprehensible. Leave it to Ben if you want to witness anything that has no relation to rationality!

"Wait, did you just say that he got his hearth broken?" she asked again to make sure that all possibilities of misunderstanding were cast aside.

"Yes, I did," the sorceress nodded.

"I suppose you also know what this is all about."

"Yep," Caroline smiled, and even Gwen had to accept its pleasance, "Ben did fill me in on some of his secrets."

"Care to share your precious knowledge with me?" Gwen addressed her, again irritated by her tactics.

"Sure," she crossed her hands on her chest, "The thing is that Ben has fallen in love with a girl, yet, to his misfortune, he doesn't have a chance with her for…" she stopped for a moment, thinking how to present it better, "let's just say that she has forsaken his love from the beginning and, thus, crushed his hearth like a fragile jewel under her elegant heel."

There was a lot of stuff spinning in Gwen's head by the time Charmcaster had told the news.

"I'm amazed by the things fate can throw at people. Ben can turn into a variety of aliens and hold ground against an infinite number of enemies. Still, he can fall in love, get rejected, and become the victim of his own love life."

"What's her name?" Gwen asked.

"Sorry, but I am cannot say everything. I cannot speak instead of Ben. You know that girl, and Ben has going through this problem for more than one and a half year already," she pulled out a cell phone from her pocket and looked at the time, "anyway, it was relatively nice talking to you, Gwen, but I have to go back to work."

With these simple words she left. Gwen watched her depart for some reason unable to cast a call for her. Only thoughts, the consequences of the witch's words, churned in her head like a whirlpool.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

"I have reasons to believe that he might be inside that mansion," Grandpa Max said as he put one of the Plumber gadgets back into his pocket.

Just like his three teammates, Ben was walking towards the implied structure, observing it as he did.

The old Confederate mansion, wooden and two-storied, stood surrounded by a field where green grass and random weed was the only crop. Not a history wiz, Ben still had knowledge to conclude that in the past cotton had been grown on this unused land.

Though the mansion itself reminded an illustration from a school history book related to the Civil War, there were, nevertheless, that the manor continued to be inhabitable until the present day…or, in the worst case scenario of the fate of its real owners, until recently. In no way did it remind some old wreck with decaying walls, absent windows, and torn down doors. It simply felt that it had been standing there throughout an infinity of years, the landscape around it its realm, untouched by time.

The sun shone down on them from the almost cloudless skies. The grass beneath him gave sounds, almost like whispers, as he made step after step. So that was how a walk in the countryside felt like!

Eventually they made way to the door.

"Grandpa, do you think he's waiting for us," Gwen whispered to the de-facto leader of the team.

"Hard to tell, his ways have always been a bit awkward," followed a reply.

Max placed his heavy hand on the doorknob. He pulled the door at himself and it opened accompanied with slow creak, reminiscent of a thriller movie.

"It's just like on TV," Kevin voiced an earlier comparison.

They entered and ended up in the large foyer. Again the ghost of the nineteenth century hovered around them: no technology was present whatsoever, merely several stools and a closet. The specific smell of wood filled Ben's nostrils.

They then went into the next room, an even bigger hallway, the archaic feel following in their footsteps. It was almost the same in interior.

Like branches from a tree, the other rooms surely sprang from the hall, entrances to them located on each side. Just meters before them a staircase led above to the upper floor, the entries to more rooms present like giant gaps in the wall.

"We will probably need to split up," Kevin suggested.

"No, too dangerous," Max said.

"Well, well, well," a high, chopped in pronunciation voice echoed across the whole place.

The four of them looked around the hallway, mentally preparing themselves for anything that was about to happen.

"Ben Tennyson and friends!" the voice continued, "What a surprise!"

The tall, in a way even, lean, figure of the speaker emerged from the darkness of the central entrance on the upper floor.

He looked quite fit for a man in what seemed to be his early sixties. His pace was certain, although grey hair had long ago replaced his natural one. He put his hand on the handrail of the stairway.

"How long has it been since the last time we met? Three years I believe?" the old man continued.

"And seems that those years you spent in an asylum for the mentally ill haven't had an effect on you, Animo," Gwen responded.

"Of course they didn't! What makes you think that I even need treatment? But enough about that, I am surprised that you have managed to locate me so fast." The mysterious newcomer, the one known as Doctor Animo, said.

"It wasn't that hard," Max stated in an intention of a taunt, "you always repeat everything you do? Unleashing a swarm of mutant locust on the rural areas of the southern states is almost exactly the same stunt you tried to pull back nine years ago. And there's also your tendency of making hideouts in places like abandoned mansions and sunken ships."

Ben had to admit Grandpa was right; Animo always remained loyal to his style, except of course that Null Void incident. What a loser!

"Well this place isn't abandoned! The owners probably live somewhere else! I mean, this place doesn't even have electricity!" an old man, Animo, nevertheless, still possessed some childish traits of character.

Ben raised an eyebrow, finding this defense incredibly weak.

"Ok, dude, we believe you!" Ben said jokingly, raising his hands.

"But I must tell you one thing," Animo continued, ignoring Ben's act, "Since the first day I met you these nine long years ago, one thought has always returned to me."

"Why can't you accursed Tennysons just die!" he shouted as he raised his clenched fist in the air.

"Hey, look at the bright side; at least he doesn't hate me that much," Kevin attempted to joke but only received an unsatisfied stare from two pairs of emerald-green eyes.

"Then why don't you two just get a couple of beers out of the fridge and talk about old times?" Ben threw another witty remark.

"And no, Tennyson, I do not repeat the same thing. Did you really think that those locusts you've come here to combat are my only creations?" the mad scientist proclaimed, pointing at the crown-like headband around his head, "Enter, my pets!"

And it was then that company arrived. From the adjoining rooms emerged the results of the crazed researcher's work. Ben first thought those were ordinary wolves—even though "ordinary" was not the best word in usage when it came to such encounters—any divergences from the originals unnoticed at all.

Another couple joined their master at his location, but they were undoubtedly were going to progress on their path later.

To his arousal Ben watched the evil genius pat one of the beasts like an ordinary hound. Who knew Animo was such a big dog-lover!

"Behold the result of my latest experiments! It took me a lot of time to create one of the most deadly kinds of mutants the world has ever witnessed. And here they are! I am sure this is the first time you encounter wolves that have the genome of a rattlesnake!"

"_This guy really knows how to manifest his fantasies_," Ben thought.

"Think about it, Tennysons," Animo continued in his maniacal zeal, "A bite from one of these creatures will make the victim dead within several minutes. No, even better, a mere scratch with a fang can lead to the same outcome!"

The beasts moved a bit nearer. The heroes heard them release sounds that joined both roaring and hissing. Poison dripped heavily from their mouths upon the non-rug floor.

In challenge to the mutants, the four took their stances. The dark-haired young man ducked, pressing his open palms to the floor so to absorb the characteristics of the material. Spheres of pink-purple energy formed in Gwen's hands, as she carefully analyzed the situation.

"Your tricks won't save you this time!" the mad scientist threw them what he thought as discouraging words, "But before you meet your deaths in the jaws of my pets, I might cast my pride aside and ask an advice from you," his eyes flashed with joy, " When I will have taken over the world with my mutant forces, I wonder what title should I bestow upon myself? I can't decide whether it should be Emperor Animo or God King Animo?"

"Dude! Your head is seriously messed up!" Kevin gave his diagnosis to the villain, "I suggest that you start taking pills!"

"Destroy them, my hounds!" Animo shouted.

Following his command, the beasts bolted at their master's foes only to bump into an energetic shield of purple color that hid their prey under its cover.

"Very clever, girl, but they have enough stamina to breach your shield after some time!" Gwen heard the vile voice sound from above.

The mutts carried on jumping at the magical barrier, though each attempt all in all turned unsuccessful, the upshot of their constant repeats was felt as Gwen began slowly loosing control due to the disturbances.

"I'm going in," said Kevin, now looking like a living tree-like being from a fantasy video game.

An opening in the shield appeared in front of him and he left the same side before the gap closed once again. It took the half-Osmosian little time to introduce his now wooden fist with the muzzle of the nearest hound.

"Try poisoning something made out of wood," he addressed his retreating rival which only gave a hiss in return.

"We need to help him," Max said as he withdrew a small pistol-like Plumber laser gun.

Ben scanned the Ultimatrix for the most suitable choice. Diamondhead seemed the best one; 100 per cent protection from poison and good solid kicks as a bonus.

The shield fell before he managed to press the alien device.

Ben felt something harden within him—being left unprotected against such monsters even for several seconds was really daunting. Even more willingly than before, he slammed his palm against the watch and a sickly-green light devoured him like fire. Ben sensed in its depths how his all body was being reformed. It did not hurt, it did not bring joy—it was simply different.

Ben Tennyson had disappeared in the flame, yet what emerged was…

"Swampfire?" Ben proclaimed in annoyance, "Oh, c'mon, I wanted Diamondhead."

No matter what plans and dream he had or would have; the glitches of the watch were, had been, and often would be there to ruin the fun.

He got a response in the incarnation of Animo's laughter.

"You're making everything even more easier, Ben!" the doctor said, "Did you know that even predators eat grass once in a while? It's good for their health!"

"Can you just shut up already?" Ben shouted, tired from his enemy's endless talking.

Several of the mutants rewarded him with their attention. Yep, he had to act fast. However, a wave of pink energy swept the beasts of their feet.

_Nice timing as usual, Gwen_.

Ben gazed at the way his colleagues were dealing with the monsters.

He saw Kevin virtually wrestling one of the hounds. Nothing new in his approach.

Gwen was doing work for several at the same time, keeping the mutants at a distance by casting bolts at them.

Most strangely, Grandpa had not used his weapon on throughout the duration of the whole fight. True, these creatures had adopted the agility of their serpentine donors and never stayed still, but it was very doubtful that Grandpa had lost his aim over the years.

One of the beast once more tried coming closer to him.

"I don't care what Animo says, but it's not healthy to eat me," Ben's Swampfire form addressed the nearest one.

A sphere of fire ignited in his palm. He quickly pulled his hand with the flaming orb at towards the freak, and the creature retreated, growling, having had its nose burned.

"Fire! Of course! It always helps in the movies," he concluded, and another flame materialized in his other hand.

He made a spin, allowing the other approaching beasts to try out the hot sensations. That would teach them. The hounds followed the example of the first one.

"It is time for you to feast on Ben Tennyson, my four-pawed friends," he heard Doctor Animo speak to the pair that remained with him.

Hoping that Gwen or anybody else had his back covered, the Ben turned around.

The pair of hounds made a jump-or even a leap—at him from the top of the stairway. Poison was definitely the only feature of snake genetics in them.

There was one great way of dealing with them…

He cast two fireballs at the monsters. His aim was perfect—they reached their, setting the hounds on fire. The leap turned into an ordinary fall.

Several seconds later Ben began to understand that he had not planned it properly. The flame spread from the scorched bodies on the floor, consuming the wood with incredible speed.

Ben felt the heavy curtain of the energetic shield surround the four a second time.

"I never learned to understand your tactics, Ben," Animo then admitted, "but how can anybody be so stupid as to cast fireballs in wooden manor!" he shouted.

All in all, the whole incident had ended in a manner similar to several previous ones throughout the years; they had managed to get out in time from the burning estate, leaving Animo and his monstrous minions amidst the flames behind.

The pink energetic platform slowly flew just above the burnt remnants of the manor. The four riders looked intently at the ashes and debris. The strong smell of recent burning still accompanied the area and filled their nostrils with unpleasant sense.

Several times they came across some of the leftovers of the fire's wild banquet—the charred skeletons of the wolves. Yet among the scalded bones none seemed to belong to a human.

"Another of Animo's pets," Max concluded, dropping a look at what was left of the last corpse, "he probably had some escape route."

Nobody was surprised: the villains had always had the habit of getting out of the most dire situations in one piece. They were certainly destined to meet Doctor Animo again some other day.

"Take us back to the Rustbucket, Gwen," Grandpa then said.

She did so.

"What do we do now?" asked Kevin, jumping off the platform when they arrived at their destination.

"I cannot say for sure how hard was the blow we dealt to Animo's locust swarm before we went face-to face with him," and after a short pause he added, "we will probably have to stay in this part of the country for a couple of days before making conclusions whether the threat was dealt with properly."

"Does it mean it's gonna be something like old times?" Gwen said enthusiastically.

"Yes," Grandpa smiled, "Moreover, this state has its own share of cultural heritage, and as long as we're here we might travel around and see the local landmarks."

There was no doubt about it—it had the promise to be like old times. Almost…

Ben had to admit it; while Grandpa Max had always been known as a passionate lover of all sorts of exotic—and by this word he meant something unimaginably gross—cuisine, he, nevertheless, did not neglect the traditional old style cooking all the time.

The evening meal was not bad: fried eggs and sausages. Though Ben usually associated this recipe with breakfast time, it still felt way less awkward than the 'fried octopus with strawberry jam' dish proposed the other day. He attempted to visualize it.

A giant plate emerged from the deep pits of his imagination, an octopus covered in jam and pieces of strawberries on it. Ben thought the dish floated closer to him. Upon a better look, Ben noticed that the seafood gave an impression of being uncooked. It also looked like…Vilgax's head!

The octopus suddenly opened its eyes.

"What are you looking at, Tennyson?" a familiar voice rocked, a tone that was unmistakable in both dream and the real world.

Ben shook off the alarming image. His eyes were now wide open, and goosebumps ran across his body. He reached out for a glass of water and drank it all. That was really disturbing!

Later he was lying on his bulk, suffering from anxiety. Gwen had avoided talking to him throughout the whole, their conversations limited to several exchanges on mission-related matters. Kevin seemed clueless about Ben's words, and that was a good thing.

But what about Gwen? Caroline had told him about her latest discussion with the redhead. Though the sorceress had not openly given him away, she still had provided her opponent with useful hints. Had Gwen figured it out? He did not know what to hope for. He simply wished the whole thing had not happened at all.

He turned his head. Gwen was engaged in a lively grandfather-granddaughter discussion with Max. The subject: the acceptance letter and notification of a scholarship from that university. Her excited voice had been reaching him all the time his cousin was blabbing about it with grandpa. For crying out loud, where did she find so much sensation about it! He had found out about it from the beginning of the mission: Gwen's thoughts of future enrollment on the programm were the dominant topic of all her lighter statements.

He looked around; no Kevin in sight. The guy probably got tired to listening to all of this who-knows-the-number-of rows and left. Perhaps he ought to join him?

Ben stood up and exited the trailer, immediately spotting Kevin sitting silently under the nearest tree, his knees on the level of his chest.

"Hey there, big guy!" Ben addressed him.

"What's up, Tennyson?" the dark-haired young man replied in a tone near to an unemotional one.

"Noticed you were absent so decided to provide you with company," even though envy had scarred Kevin's image in Ben's eyes, the Ultimatrix-wielding hero himself needed somebody to talk to, "got tired of Gwen's talking?" he approached him.

"Tell me about it…" came a reply.

"By the way, Kev, just out of curiosity, what is your take on Gwen attending a university so far from home?" Ben asked.

"Who, me? I don't mind at all," Kevin said all cool guy like.

"_Oh, really_," Ben thought.

"Why did you ask me anyway?"

"Well, you are her boyfriend," Ben started, "_Though I wish you weren't_," the thought marked its presence in his mind.

"And you know that an undergraduate course lasts for four years, and the university she is going to be attending is very prestigious…"

"So?"

Now it was time to use some knowledge for some serious moral torture!

"Hello, Kev! She'll be living at university accommodation for four years. And you know who else will be attending it?"

Ben grinned; the expression on Kevin's face notified that he had gotten his attention.

"Students with excellent performance at school. Students with an excellent reputation and solid references!" he made a stop allowing his teammate to digest the new information in his head.

"And that's not all! Institutions like that also have a big population of the offspring of all these big shots like politicians, tycoons, world-renowned scientists, and stars!" he made another stop for the same reason earlier.

"And who knows how many of those guys might fit both categories at the same time!" he then proclaimed, spreading his hands like wings.

"You don't think she'd—do you?"

By the tone of Kevin's voice, by the look in his eyes, so confused and even frightened, Ben could tell he got the result he wished. He felt some miniature version of him hop from joy inside his essence at his rival's dismay. That was getting even more fun, and it would have been a sin to stop it that moment…

"Nah," Ben shook his head in disagreement, and, after several seconds of silence, added, "but come to think of it…"

He put his hand to his chin.

"If she meets a guy who is smart, good-looking, isn't a former hooligan, and has a dad who owns an oil company…I don't see why she wouldn't want to make an investment in her future, especially if this guy himself would dig her…"

"Gwen isn't that type of girl! She loves me!" Kevin contradicted him, an attempt in purpose more to convince himself than the other young man.

"I guess you're right. It's just probably the info I found about naked parties that is…" Ben bit his lower lip in order to avoid a smile ruining his act.

"What parties?" Kevin's voice was indubitably raised on a higher note.

"Naked parties, Kev," he repeated, "haven't you heard? A type of shindigs that are held at these elite universities. All the students actively involved in social life take part in them. You attend them with no clothes on—it's supposed to be good for socializing interaction and character build-up. Other than that, they don't differ much from ordinary parties—loud music, dancing, drinks…you know, stuff like that."

Kevin's gaze was now like that of a drug user.

"That's, that's…"he searched for words in the vocabulary of his head but could not find even one to describe what he felt.

"Yah, I understand you," Ben now played with him in a role of a supporting friend, "If you look at the full picture, it becomes more disturbing. Sure, you might be visiting Bellwood time and time again, but none of us can know what will be happening behind the closed doors of the dorm. Maybe one day, you suddenly arrive on-campus and see her in the embrace of some student?" Ben did not know where he still had the strength to stand properly and not burst into crazed laughter, "But anyway, lighten up, it's not like I'm a telepath who can see past, present, and future," he decided to have mercy on the poor sap.

However, Kevin E. Levin was quite a hot-headed and easily-provoked person. And, in theory, all of this was possible…

"If some nerd there tries to tap Gwen, I will tear his dick off and use it to strangle him slowly as he pleads for mercy!" he proclaimed, his mood as bad as badness itself.

"Wow, Kev, that's ruthless," Ben cracked again.

"And stop filling my head with all this crap!" he barked, signaling the end of the conversation.

That night Ben was unable to sleep. He rolled from one side to another; he closed his eyes and counted to a hundred. Yet dreams, as it seemed, did not have an appointment with him that night.

He could hear the thunder of Grandpa's snoring, a sound rivaled only by Kevin's. However, he doubted that it was the only thing that kept him awake even though he was unable to guess the other reasons.

He hit the pillow with his fist.

"_Shit_," he thought before his head heavily fell on the pillow.

"Ben, are you awake?" he heard the delicate voice coming from Gwen's bulk, a voice that made his every muscle freeze. Still, only for a moment.

"Yes, I am."

"Great," she gracefully slid out of her bulk, "I've been meaning to talk to you."


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

His biggest wish that moment was to duck under the covers and simulate a loud snore. He silently asked why he had given himself away. He knew what Gwen would be talking about, and he lacked the intention of listening to her lectures about the negative sides of having affairs with former supervillainesses for an entire hour. Yet there was no other option. He had blown his cover—if he had had one that is—and now needed to face whatever she was about to throw at him. Ben Tennyson was not a coward, and he once more reminded him that there were much worse things than chatting to Gwen about unpleasant stuff.

"What is it, Gwen?" he asked, giving her a long gaze.

"Perhaps we should take this discussion outside?" she suggested.

"Yeah, sure, just give me a couple of seconds."

"I'll be outside," Gwen said before moving towards the exit.

With a push from her gentle hand, the door was calmly opened. She stepped outside.

Ben dropped flat against the bed, gathering his courage for the impending humiliating chat. Who could have known it would be so hard! Especially taking into account all the stuff he had gone through for half of his life.

It took him only several seconds to get up from bed and literally follow in the path of his cousin. He quietly closed the door of the RV behind him, leaving the dreaming Grandpa and Kevin inside.

He had to admit that moonlight granted Gwen Tennyson an extra amount of radiance, new in its own way. Though her long locks gave the impression of adopting darker brown tones, he could swear that her jade-green eyes flashed in the night. Ben felt a sudden urge run through his whole body, a mania that made him want to wrap his hands around Gwen, pull her to him, and tightly hold her even if it was the only thing he could do.

"You wanted to talk to me, Gwen?" he asked, overcoming it.

"Yes," she nodded, "but let's go for a stroll."

"Sounds good," Ben tried his best at remaining confident. _Ah, who am I kidding?_

He made his way alongside her in a direction opposite to that of the Rustbucket.

"I and Charmcaster met up soon after that incident at your house," Gwen said her eyes on the road rather than her cousin, "and we had a _talk_ on this issue."

"I know about that," Ben commented, "she told me,"

Charmcaster possessed the memory similar to that of an ancient poet, allowing her to retell an incredible amount of information in the manner closest and fullest to the primary source. She had told him what she had said to her foe and the reaction she had received.

"I have been thinking about her words since then," Gwen continued, "and I've come up with an interpretation."

Ben froze in his track; he had no idea what to wish for. On one hand, he wanted her to know the truth; on the other, he had problems admitting it but he was scared…

"You're in love with me," her voice came as though a revelation from heaven.

Ben was startled to say the least. Several times did he replay those words in his, searching for any indications of _her _impressions on all of this. Perhaps Gwen was too good at hiding them, or he was too nervous for the find, yet he ended up unable to uncover those. Here he stood with the object of his secret love in front of him fully aware of his feelings. He needed to devise a plan of action in the fleeing couple of moments he had. Too bad the Ultimatrix was useless at matters such as this one.

"Gwen, I…" he began, yet paused with no full statement on his mind.

He was desperate enough to think about running into the shadows of the night and disappearing forever.

That was then replaced with the possibility of apologising, as random thoughts usually had it.

"Gwen, I…" he repeated the same words.

She made a light step towards him. He gazed into her eyes, a pair of green orbs that almost shined in the pale moonlight. He thought he noticed sadness in them, yet the young hero could not be certain.

"Ben, this…" she did not finish that sentence herself…but the reason diverged from the previous one.

With a movement as swift as a strike of a snake, Ben put his palms on the cheeks of his cousin. Immediately, he leaned forward, and his lips finally met hers.

He did not care what would happen to him after the long awaited kiss. If lightning strikes him to death the moment it ended—he would at least die a happy man. If a rift in the ground opened up and demons dragged him alive to Hell alive to torment him for an eternity—then so be it. Yet in these couple of seconds he had, he just enjoyed the sweetness of the kiss and Gwen's lips.

He finally separated himself from her, triumphant that he finally got to kiss _her_.

He looked at her, ready for anything, including a slap from her.

"Kevin was just a distraction," the same sad expression on her beautiful face, "It was you that I loved. For years."

He thought the confession would make his heart stop from excitement. Ben was unable to remember when the last time happiness had such a strong hold on him was.

He embraced her again. As he held her tight, he felt a familiar sensation, experienced a number of times with Charmcaster. His female companion put her hand on his front, massaging his groin from the other side of his pants. An erection was caused in a second.

The redhead pulled away from him. Her hands set out to her shirt. She unbuttoned it with the quickness she could before completely removing it. The red cloth carelessly fell to the ground.

She stood straight, motionless, allowing him to admire her breasts. As the young man stared lust-infused at her newly exposed features, his mouth watered. He had the deepest desire to taste her, to feel her breast in his mouth.

Yet Gwen acted faster than expected.

Going down on her knees, she unzipped his pants and pulled the front of his underwear down. His manhood sprang out, now in her view.

"Believe me, you'll enjoy this," Gwen said giving him a quick glance.

Ben felt her moist tongue touch his tip before completely enveloping it.

His stamina failed him. Ben could not hold it; he came.

—

It was then Ben woke up, feeling moisture in his underwear. It took him several moments to adjust to the fact that he was still in the RV and everybody in his company was still asleep.

"Fuck," he whispered in anger.

A lot of people would have found this situation comical, yet Ben was not ready for a laugh. Getting out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom. He did his best to wipe the cum off himself as well as his underpants before returning to bed.

He now lay on his bulk sleepless; his recent dream on his mind.

Only a dream. But how great it was. He regretted that he was woken up right when the most interesting part only started. Perhaps if he went to sleep he would still be able to catch the rest of it? But here dwelled the problem, intrigued so much he was simply unable.

But even more he regretted that it was _just_ a dream…

This led his flow of thoughts into a different direction. Again he was thinking about Gwen about real life. Did he really lose her before a fight could even begin? Or maybe some molecule-seized segment was true, and she really loved him, using Kevin as a mere substitute. A number of great discoveries had been prophesised in dream. Why could not that be the case as well? He desperately wanted to believe it was true, and that Gwen really loved him in return, afraid to admit it due to their family relation.

But what if it was not? That just completed the circle, returning him after his long spiritual journey back to the point he had started from.

Thoughts on him like a boulder on the shoulders of a slave, Ben fell asleep only by the approach of sunrise.

Nothing serious or interesting happened in the day. Grandpa drove the RV through the rural areas of the country. They saw idyllic landscapes with fields and cottages. They saw some local landmarks. However, there were no signs of Animo's mutants appearing and ravaging any new areas in the region. The lunatic probably fled the same day his plans were foiled.

The next day differed little from its predecessor. It was then in the evening Max said that there was be no further hints on the mad scientist's operation in the area, they would come back to Bellwood.

Ben, eager at the beginning of the mission, was looking forward to going back. It was a real disaster: the villain was not caught, he went through a couple of extra days of boredom since he was not into heritage tourism, and Gwen's thoughts after the exchange with Charmcaster were still a mystery to him.

Ben exited the Rustbucket. With nothing else to do, he strolled the cam area aimlessly, unnoticing as time passed him by with the flow of the wind. As he had noticed it, he did not notice her.

"Ben, what are you doing here?" he heard her voice behind his back after who-knows-how-may minutes.

This unexpected call startled him and he turned around in a swift move.

It seemed he once again relieved the dream he has two nights before. Luckily, his hands were crossed on his chest and him pinching himself remained unnoticed by his cousin. The pinch changed nothing; the scene before him did not melt away and his inconvenience remained. It was now official—he was not in a dream.

"Nothing much, just thinking about stuff," he said.

"Listen, Ben," she said calmly with no indications of irritation whatsoever, "remember that incident at your house last week?"

"Sorry about what I said about Kevin. I didn't mean it. Just a random phrase I threw without thinking," no matter that he wanted the opposite, he still had to admit her boyfriend was not a 'supervillain in disguise' type.

"I'm not about that—I guessed those were empty words from the beginning," she commented, "I wanted to talk to you about another thing."

"Yes," the young hero felt an invisible force grip his heart and squeeze.

"You know you can talk to me about anything," the readhead explained.

"Is this discussion going to be about Charmcaster?" he used the name more out of habit than in context.

"In a way," she confirmed, "Ben, you really ought to stay away from her. I know there hasn't been a crime record behind her for the last two years but still…"

"Haven't we been here already," he reminded her, sarcastically.

"I know why you turn to her; she told me. Why haven't you talked to me or Kevin on this issue? We're your friends."

_For crying out loud, and she manages to ask? _That was the first thought to visit him after such a proposition.

"Well, you already know it," Ben commented.

"I found it through _her_. I still have a hard time believing that you could trust such personal information to somebody so unpredictable!"

"Since she has already told you this, you can give me an advice."

"I still don't know the name of that girl. She was talking in riddles. I first thought it was Julie…"

_Oh, please,_ the young man thought, touched by simplicity of such a big caliber.

"No, not Julie, I've gotten over her very quickly."

"Then who is she? You know you can talk to me about anything and nobody else will know."

As he gazed at her, he again reflected the parallels between the situation and his dream. Perhaps that dream really was partly prophetic? The present was not an absolute match, but the background: the rural area in nocturnal shadows and the concern of his companion…

Remembering the second part of the dream brought up warmth in his lower abdomen. It served as a distraction for several moments. However, he quickly returned to the main sequence.

Perhaps it would really be better to tell her in order to avoid further torment related to the old 'she loves me, she loves me not' question.

If the answer was positive, and—as he reminded himself— it always could be, then…nobody would be able to weight the amount of his joy. And if negative…that was what he was afraid of most.

Maybe her not knowing it all would be a better option. That was quite attractive.

Yet he was supposed to be a superhero…he was a superhero, and not some non-caring member of some lifeless crowd.

In these minutes, fate alone knew the length of their existence, he had the courage to confess. Next time might not come.

It took him another couple of moments to gather his spirit before the words finally escaped:

"Gwen, it is you that I have loved all this time. Still do." It was all or nothing.

An earthquake would have had less effect than Ben's words. Gwen's eyes widened as took her time to fully process the new knowledge. There was no way she could have overheard him or improperly interpret such words. She heard it correctly.

As the elements raged around her own little world, ravaging everything, she capable of only one thing…

"No, Ben, this is wrong," she quietly said as she turned to face the ground at her feet.

Ben could have sworn she turned away in shame.

"Why?"

"Ben, you're my cousin, and I love you like a cousin, but I cannot love you more than that," her voice was fused with gloom.

His dream had misled him.

"Why?" his inner thought slipped by accident to his own further horror.

"Firstly, I have a boyfriend," she continued as if she did not notice the awkwardness of the question, "I love Kevin."

In another situation he would have clenched his teeth upon hearing this, yet the confession and reaction had taken his energy.

"We are cousins," Gwen continued, not presenting him even the slightest glance, "What do you think Grandpa'd think if he found out. Your parents? My parents?"

This was a point Ben had never fully addressed. Even if she had loved him in return, would their parents have given an approval or told them to avoid each other like a plague, forsaking them if they chose otherwise? His own might have not minded, but there was no way guessing the reaction of Gwen's more conservative parents.

"And…"she made a break in an attempt to properly structure the following statement, "All this aside. I cannot imagine how I could fall in love with you, knowing that you could love one person but sleep with another. And out of all people…you've slept with Charmcaster…Charmcaster. I can't believe you slept with her because you love me! How could you?"

Old habits die hard, and there was no need to be an astrologist to see the two's grudge sticking out from behind Gwen's opinion. But still, she had a point—things like that were not the most heroic.

"I'm sorry, Gwen," Ben's voice trembled as he felt tears nearing his eyes, "sorry for everything I said now…sorry for everything…"

"I will pretend I heard nothing tonight," she quickly turned around, not revealing whether she forgave him or not, "but I really wish I could forget it. Now let's go back to the RV," with those words she led the way.

Bitterness in his throat, Ben silently strolled behind her. Sour thoughts plagued his mind. He had to admit it—he had lost Gwen. His world was dying screaming, and that scream was an agonizing one.

The exiting pair, caught in their own thought, failed to notice the figure protected by the shades of evening and vegetation…

The observer had come unnoticed, but what he heard was not among his primary intentions. Max had sent him to find the duo—the detailed plan for tomorrow's search for Animo required everybody's presence.

He was strong but he was agile as well. He had found them quite quickly, planning to jump out of the bushes, startling them: the most typical joke. However, in all of irony's boundaries, he was the one startled…

Tennyson was hitting on his girl! Moreover, the whole confession looked like a pathetic attempt to make a move on her! There was a lot of things wrong with all of that…but most of all was that the shrimp was confessing that to _his_ girl.

Anger was burning him like the flames of hell. He, Kevin Levin, would not leave that unpunished.

Aliens or not, but his fist was going to have a special date with Ben's face.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

If he had had a choice, Ben would have preferred being haunted by a ghost.

However, with that option not available, he circled in fast pace in his room, Gwen's words echoing in the back of his mind. The window, the TV set, the bed—the objects in constant repetition in front of his gaze as he made one senseless turn after the other, his entire journey nonsense.

He heavily fell down on his bed, closing his eyes. Yet again he saw that almost movie-like scene in which he confessed his love to Gwen only to be denied. He could have sworn that this tale—his tale—possessed all the potential to be adapted on the stage; a story that could have rivaled any of Shakespeare's plays, so many themes were in it to explore.

He was a fool! Trusting—no, even being duped by—a dream was the closest thing to a bottom that the deep pit of human stupidity had. And as he lay there he could still feel the effects of the fall. Like a fall leaves bruises and fractures bones, so did the event of that evening break Ben, yet it was not his body that required a cast but his spirit.

If he had only been clever…if he had been born clever, all of that nocturnal embarrassment would have been avoided. Yet it had happened, and now the most right thing left was to speculate what result it would have on his relationship with his cousin.

The confession had made everything even worse. After the end of the meeting the redhead had not spoken to him at all. In other words, there was a total ignore from her. She spent the remnant of the mission not even looking in his direction, talking only with either Kevin or Grandpa.

He wondered if the bell had rang for the last time when it came to their teamwork. What he was afraid most was that she had interpreted his innocent confession the wrong way, gaining the impression that he was a lustful, incestuous creature driven by his uncontrollable desires. Perhaps he was just overreacting by thinking about stuff like that, but still, as people said it, you could never be certain you really know people.

Perhaps Gwen was still shaking from the feeling of disgust and repeating 'Euw!' and getting an urge to spit at his photo every time she remembered the scene? He really wished it was not like that.

He closed his eyes, hoping that dream would come—he did after all have a sleepless night (all due to this). He lay that way for several minutes to no result. He turned on his left side, yet that was just as useless. He turned to his right side; same effect. He dug his face in the pillow, the soft fabric caressing his face. His eyelids fell heavily. However, the young man found it the least comfortable of them all. Another couple of minutes, and he sat up.

The ringing of his cell phone was the only thing that made him get up. The illuminated screen displayed the name: 'Kevin'.

_Oh great, what does he want?_, Ben thought.

"Hello," he said, answering the call.

"Hey Tennyson!" he heard the buffoonish voice of his victorious rival, "how are you adapting after that trip?"

"Slowly," Ben commented, his voice getting grimmer.

"What cha doing?" Kevin then asked.

"Nothing serious, just sitting at home and watching TV," he turned to the set: it was turned off, yet Ben had long gotten himself accustomed to lying to Gwen's boyfriend. It was unnecessary but it was a habit.

"What about you?" was his automatic question-reply.

"Nothing much. Just working in the garage. Gwen said she was busy today…" he made a short pause, "…sooo bored! Perhaps you could drop in?"

_Gwen, busy_, Ben thought, disturbed, paying little attention to the second part of the statement. That definitely was something not right; they just returned late at night. Perhaps their little talk had more negative effect on her than supposed to.

"Hello Tennyson, are you watching porn or something?" Kevin's tone was now more sarcastic.

"No, what are you implying?" the young hero reacted.

"I am inviting you to keep me company while I'm fixing my car. Are you interested?"

"You're always fixing your car."

"Well, I work faster when I have a jester like you around," he made a calm laugh over the phone.

"Fine, I'm coming," he agreed, with a distance that separated the Moon from the Earth, "don't go anywhere, I'll be there soon."

Sure, I'll be waiting…" he hung up.

Ben came down the stairs. With his mother not seen doing gymnastics in the living room or heard from the kitchen, it only then came to him that she and Dad had gone away for the weekend again. He exited the house.

He walked slowly the streets of Bellwood, enjoying the good summer weather. The skies above him spread into infinity, not a single cloud decorating that blue tapestry. It was nice to know there would not be any annoying distractions like the infamously famous summer rains that could not be predicted by even the meteorologists.

Kevin's house finally appeared before his sight, a dwelling indestinguishible in architecture from any neighboring one. The adjoined smaller structure of the garage was the next thing to be presented to him. By common logic, Kevin should be the next one.

And it came to pass. The garage door was open, allowing him to see Kevin. The big guy's back was turned to him, the young man himself in a seated position. By the movements of his hands, Ben supposed that Gwen's boyfriend was doing a check of his tools.

Ben smirked; some carefulness and agility, and he would get the guy surprised. Still, no matter how he tried, the owner noticed.

"Don't bother Tennyson, I can notice even a ninja approaching," he looked at him from head to toes, "and you're definitely not a ninja."

"Fair enough," Ben confirmed, "so how's your car now?"

"Fine," Kevin replied as he closed the tool case, "it's fine now."

The dark-haired young man stood up and approached the hero.

Ben did not expect what happened next. The bigger guy suddenly pulled his hands forward, grabbing him by the jacket and lifting like a sack of potatoes. The next thing Ben felt was the unpleasant upshot of being slammed against the wall.

"What's wrong with you?" he virtually shouted, shock overcoming all logic. His feet hung in the above the ground as he was held by the wall from one side and Kevin's hands by the other. It was surprising his jacket had not been torn due to the action.

Rage shone in Kevin's eyes. The same deep destructive feeling reshaped his face as if it was made of clay.

"You don't get it, do you shrimp?" Kevin barked.

Ben was gazing at his angered teammate, trying to find the person he had known for the last four years. Was this wild animal really him or had something possessed him? Maybe the guy had simply cracked?

"What are you talking about?" he could use the Ultimatrix when needed but now sought answers.

Kevin was definitely not in the mood for a calm discussion.

"Man, you're either dumber than I thought or you're just fooling around," he clenched his teeth.

"Well, perhaps you could remind both of us. Com'on enlighten me," Ben's own temper stood shakily on the verge of disappearance.

"Ok then, I will specially explain to the guy with memory losses," he said in a slow temp, "you have some nerve telling Gwen the stuff you told her the evening before!"

Ben's eyes widened in the greatest surprise of the season. The word 'bad' was not even close enough to describe the mess he was in.

"Yes…" Kevin with a grin so disturbing that Ben got an impression that he was about to sink his teeth in his throat and tear it open, "remember now?"

Perhaps, under these specific conditions and in this very specific situation, the best thing to do was to lie. Still, how had he found out? Had it escaped Gwen's lips by accident?

"How?" he dropped one mere word, a light indication that he had no intent of denying the accusation.

"How?" another grin spread across Kevin's twisted visage, "your Grandpa sent me to fetch you two so that we could discuss the plans for the following day."

"I got a big surprise when I stumbled upon you," he released his captive, simultaneously making a step back.

Ben fell down, the pain from the contact with the floor, surging for a moment through his body like electricity.

"You have some nerve pulling this stunt on my girlfriend, Tennyson," he said raising his clenched fists.

Ben expected Kevin to do what hot-headed people usually tend to do in situations such as this: simply pummel him. Yet the stronger guy showed restraint, something very unnatural of him.

"I really want to believe that all of this is a result of you constantly turning into aliens. Otherwise, I can't believe you have always been so screwed up!" he roared.

"Kevin, you don't understand," Ben said calmly, still in sitting position.

"Don't understand what?" was his sharp reply, "Listen Incestoid, there's a lot of things wrong with it!"

"I'll start with the fact that she's my girlfriend. And you do realize that this is already enough reason for me to drown you in the toilet upstairs!" the limit of Kevin's anger still had not appeared on the horizon and was not predicted soon.

"And for fuck's sake, Tennyson, she's your cousin! How could you even imagine laying your own cousin?"

Kevin definitely jumped way ahead in his accusations. True, in his most secret, perhaps even darkest, fantasies Ben did dream of bedding her, yet that part did not slip during his confession, which meant one thing.

"You don't even know what you're talking about!" Ben protested. He stood up slowly only to receive a blow in the ribs on his side. Gwen's boyfriend did dedicate a respectful amount of strength into it.

Ben grabbed his side, already expecting another punch, yet it happened not. Truly, Kevin was more restrained this time than usually.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you anymore!" Kevin shouted, "but consider what I am going to say an official warning!"

"I don't want to see, hear, or even find out that you are moving in on my girl. Not tomorrow, not next year…Never! Although judging by her mood since your little confession, she'll be avoiding you like fire until her course starts. Otherwise, if you again attempt a stunt like that…moreover, any stunt…I'll do what I earlier said I'd do."

Ben wanted to say something, to defend himself verbally, yet the court in the shape of Kevin Levin had decided the verdict.

"Now get out!" he hissed, pointing at the exit from the garage, "and from now on, I don't want to be in your presence anywhere except, unfortunately, Plumber duty. Consider our friendship officially abolished. Now move!"

He did not have the need to say it twice for Ben to obey. The young man left the garage behind, staggering to his own dwelling. He did not pay any attention to the surroundings; if a hatch had been open underneath him, then he would have fallen down. Eventually, he made it to his house.

He shut the door with a bang once within before making his way up the stairs. He stormed into the room and threw himself on the bed.

That was it! He had made a complete idiot out of himself. Gwen would definitely not be speaking to him for a long time, and Kevin…the treatment itself coupled with the ultimatum was embarrassment incarnate.

It would have been much better to suffer from unshared hidden love than be openly and in the most awful way denied, forsaken, and embarrassed…

He had lost…he had lost both of them.

He lost Kevin as a friend years before—he himself was the one to secretly stab their friendship with the poisonous dagger of envy. But that was not what mattered to him. Hearing all that the bigger guy said about him was the biggest insult. And yet, he had not used the alien watch. How could he react to Kevin's words with force if they were not just insults? He felt an unpleasant taste of agreeing that there was truth in them, that lies lacked.

Yet that was not the worst part yet.

Gwen's reaction; that sad reply hit hard than Kevin's fist. He had been officially turned down, Kevin one of the reasons. He should have seen that coming, moreover, he would have seen that coming if that stupid dream had not led him astray. And now it was official—he did not have a chance with Gwen. He never had, even if Kevin had not been around. She would have probably turned him around because of the more conservative outlook of her parents, and she, as an obedient daughter that she was, would have followed. Yet it was not important now; what-ifs had never been a part of history.

He had believed in a myth, a fairytale he himself had made. Pathetic.

He looked at the alien watch attached to his wrist. There never had been a denial that all of this was just the consequences of one chance and a mix-up altering entire lives. He was not supposed to be a superhero. How could he be one if he was a victim of his own bitter love life?

Surely if the device had ended up on Grandpa's hand, it would have been used more effectively. Even Gwen could have been a better option: unite the watch's characteristics and her skills in mana/magic and you'd get a warrior of unparallel abilities across the myriad of galaxies.

And the strangest part of all…he had not thought about that before, ignorantly believing he was the best of all. Perhaps the latest events opened his eyes at the obvious things?

He stood up, dark thoughts falling on his mind like dusk on earth. If that was the case, then he would allow somebody else to try wielding the Ultimatrix. He loved Gwen with all his heart, moreover, Gwen WAS his heart. And nobody in the world could live without a heart.

He had to die.

He walked into the bathroom. He gathered all the medicine he could find on the shelves before he returned back. He cast a glance at the pills and tablets in his palms. Who would have known everything was destined to end like in some sort of soap opera.

The half-empty soda can on his table still contained the liquid to wash the stuff down with.

He put all the pills—of different kinds, of different purposes—in his mouth. He did not bother counting how many there were, it mattered little as long as it looked like a lot.

He silently, in absentia, apologized before his parents. He could already imagine how much pain they would endure upon finding their only son dead. But he would remember to apologize before them when they reunite in death, in an unknown time, on a plane of existence unknown to all mortals.

He swallowed the medicine in several gulps and emptied the remaining of his can. Ben did not fall dead that moment—it would take a bit until the process went to full effect. He had a couple of minutes left. The question was how to spend them.

There was definitely no point in writing a will. For starters, he could not think of anything valuable he possessed, except the Ultimatrix, of course.

He took his cell phone. Call Gwen and hear her voice for the last time? But what if she refused to answer it?

He felt his hands beginning to shake, yet he came up with the last message.

_I failed. Forgive me_, he managed to text.

And as his sight blurred he forwarded it. Half-blind he tried making a step back but lost balance and fell on the bed. His fingers went numb, the phone now in his unclenched palm.

The room's interior melted completely in his eyes as pain shot across his body: his stomach, his chest, his head.

He only saw darkness for a bit. Then light flashed, filling wherever-he-was with its bright rays. Consuming Ben.

He thought he shed his body so lightly he now floated in the illumination. He still felt the pain, yet it seemed so distant now, insignificant, as though he accidentally bit his finger. Time lost any meaning.

Was this the border between life and afterlife? A twitch of fear made its presence known to Ben, yet its position was shared by curiosity. The departing hero prepared himself to see what he could not have in any time before now.

But just as it unexpectedly appeared the unnatural light faded in the same darkness that had spawned it. And now it was darkness that wrapped him in its blankets…

He began slowly to gain the views in front of him. Was he in Heaven, Hell, or somewhere else? As his sight returned to him, he came to a conclusion that it was the latter.

He found himself staring at the ceiling of his own room. It seemed like his trip to the 'undiscovered country' was cut short.

The next thought to cross him was_ how_. He should have died; it was supposed to work in theory.

As his dizziness scattered, he sat up—only then he got the answer to his mystery. She sat in his chair, her gaze concentrated on him.

"Next time you try to commit suicide, don't send me any texts with questionable contents," she hissed, the closeness of her brows, the appearance of wrinkles above them, and the wolf-like look in her eyes meant that she was dissatisfied to say the least.

That made sense how she managed to appear in the right time.

"Caroline," he stood up, rubbing his head. Man, he was tired.

Her movement paralleled his.

"What happened?" he asked.

The reply he got was not the one he had expected. Ben felt a sudden stinging in the cheek as she slapped him.

"You love-struck fool!" she shouted before repeating the same action on his other cheek.

Ben could have sworn that if he went to the mirror he would see his face as red as a beetroot.

"I could have…never…imagined…that you'd be so pathetic as to try it!" she continued in her maddened tone.

"Caroline, I…" he attempted to say something in return.

"Shut up!" she ordered and slapped him again.

With the young woman in such a mood, Ben decided that it would be best to obey.

"You have no idea how much effort it took me to get that crud out of your system!"

By her manner of speech, by the fires of rage that burned in her eyes, by her suddenly awoken proneness to violent outbursts, Ben could undeniable say that Caroline and Charmcaster were still the same person, no matter how much changes had happened throughout the last couple of years. And now, as she stood before him driven by anger, in that fragile figure he saw more of the witch from the past than his present 'friend with benefits'.

"I can't believe you were ready to die just because she turned you down!" she raised her hand for another strike.

"But how did you find out?" Ben asked, ready to receive another strike.

"I took the liberty to take a glimpse of your latest memories when I was saving your self-outcast life with my magic!" instead of hitting him, she crossed her hands on chest level.

That was not the best thing to do. In Ben's view; in a way, it was actually a form on eavesdropping.

"I tried to get rid off you in the past. The Negative Ten tried to get rid off you. My uncle tried to get rid off you a number of times," she chattered it like an incantation, "all had failed! And yet the seemingly undefeatable Ben 10 almost killed himself! And for what! And the biggest irony is that I was the one to save him!"

"My uncle is probably rolling in his grave because of this," she whispered, "because of all of this…"

Ben had to admit it; Hex would go from hell and back just to strangle her if he ever found out about the things his niece had done with his old enemy.

"I told you the first time I found out that your obsession with Gwen would not lead to anything good. I was right," she continued her monologue, "I tried to help you, but it turned out more complicated than I expected."

"You were wrong, Ben. You did not fail me. You…are MY failure," she said in a less psychotic tone, "I'm giving up on it."

He thought he swallowed hot coal when he heard her final statement. Noticing his confused look, the sorceress made her way to the door of his room.

"I know the way out," she turned her face to him.

"Caroline, you…" he started, making a step towards her.

She answered by casting a pink magic bolt that sent him falling back on his bed.

"Goodbye, Ben," she said as she exited. The door slammed behind her.


	15. Chapter 15

PART 15

It would be no mistake to say that Ben Tennyson had gotten used to seeing females storming out of his room in a mood the heat of which could melt metal. A week before it was Gwen, and now Charmcaster. And all what was left for him to do was to keep his gaze directed at their exit path. The two lasses sure knew how to make an exit with a scandal. And as always, Ben ended up being the one left alone in the consequences of the situation. Yet unlike Gwen's case, in which she had told him everything on her mind with no interpretations needed, Caroline's scene laid the floors for some philosophical thinking.

Her criticism of his failed suicide attempt was replayed in his memory like a DVD. She had a point; that really was very stupid on his behalf. For years he, Ben Tennyson, the shapeshifting superhero, had been the humiliation of all criminals he battled. He had stood against Vilgax's unparalleled might and Animo's monstrous minions, the deadly magic of Hex and Ghostfreak's dark abilities, the cunning of Darkstar and the numerical as well as hi-tech superiority of the Forever Knights. He turned victorious in all the incidents he remembered. He scattered their plans like dust in the wind and mixed the culprits with dirt.

And here, he, who seemed to be almost undefeatable, almost took away his own life. What was he thinking about? He had not thought about the rejoice of the villains when they would have found out that he was dead. He knew that kind; they would have laughed at the reason of his death—at him—if they had found out. Spanked like the brats they were by the living hero, they'd try taking their late revenge even on his corpse. The Circus Freak could write graffiti on his grave; Albedo piss on it; and Animo give the bones to his pets to chew. They all were twisted and perverted enough to attempt it—he did not doubt that for a second. Even if he'd lose all other reasons to live, live he still would so that this lot, alien or earthen, could not cheer and clap their hands in triumph.

He stood up, all thoughts of suicide cleared from his head. True, Gwen had turned him down and she still had a hold on his heart, but he could live with it. In a way, he had spent almost two years that way.

Suddenly, he bolted to the door, himself clearly not understanding what he was doing. Opening it roughly, Ben got out before descending down the stairs. The next door to be opened was the front one. He peaked outside. Ben saw the familiar figure distancing, becoming tinier and more fragile to the gaze as she did. It startled him that Charmcaster did not use a spell to simply teleport herself to the desired location, preferring the old-fashioned, millennia old way of exit—by walking. He still had time.

He dashed forward like a sportsman on a marathon. It took only a couple flashing moments before he was able catch up to her. He grabbed her by the wrist just as she turned around.

"Tennyson, let go of me!" she shouted, anger still dominating her stance. Caroline attempted to pull her hand out of his grasp, yet his hold turned up to be more solid than she had expected.

"Caroline, we need to talk," Ben said calmly.

"And what makes you think I wish to talk to you?" she whispered through gritted teeth.

She brought her hand to slap him again, however, this time he was prepared; he caught her by her other wrist again.

"Tennyson!" she did not quit her attempts of freeing herself, which, to him looked as amusing as those of a child.

"Caroline, listen. You were right about what you just said in my house," he confessed.

The struggle ceased, yet the enraged gaze his opponent was granting him did not soften.

"I thought over your words, and they do make sense. Killing oneself for a reason like that would have been incredibly stupid. You were the voice of reason."

He saw the wrinkles of dissatisfaction crossed on her forehead smoothening. Ben smirked; that meant she was calming down.

"You did not fail me, Caroline, all of this was just a misunderstanding," just to give more support to his words, the young man came down on his knees, still holding her by the wrists, "sorry about that."

"You do realize that the standing on your knees part isn't essential," Charmcaster said. She looked at the people passing on the other side of the street, wondering what the whole scene looked like to them from a distance.

The young sorceress sighed.

"Fine, Ben. As long as you learned your lesson."

Ben got off his knees.

"Does this mean you're not giving up as you threatened earlier?" he asked.

"No," was the reply, accompanied by another sigh.

He finally released her hands.

"Come on, we need to chat," he said, summoning her to follow him towards her house with a gesture. She did as expected.

The moment they were inside and the door closed, Ben dedicated to her his full attention. The young man wrapped his hands around her torso, swiftly but gently pressing her to the wall. Just like that he pressed his lips to hers.

A familiar sensation revisited her. Now that was the Ben she had gotten used to in the last couple of weeks; maybe screwed up, but passionate, unpredictable, and enthusiastic. That was an indication of progress, especially taking into account the fact that she had to save a love-torn wreck just slightly earlier. Ben played with her lips, savoring the taste that he missed during the mission.

After several fervent seconds he tore his mouth away from hers, allowing himself and her to catch their breaths.

"I thought you wanted to chat with me?" she said playfully, as she made another deep breath.

"Well, we're chatting this very moment, aren't we?" Ben smirked.

His kisses then came down to her neck. Caroline raised her chin up, giving him more territory to 'work on'. Her eyes were closed, her breathing heavy.

Yet her companion was not thinking of limiting to kissing only. She opened her eyes as she heard him unzip his jacket. He threw it to the floor before doing the same to his T-shirt.

She knew what he wanted, and she knew she would not deny him. She began stripping herself. Once the final article of clothes was removed, Ben again took her by the wrist pulling her with him to the living room. He accommodated her on a sofa, himself on his hands and knees just above her. He entered her simultaneously with another kiss.

Ben could not control his passion—now he himself was under the control of the flaming feeling. He thrust into his partner, the gasps and moans Caroline released during their intercourse added more to his enjoyment.

He did not care in these moments about the world that began just a step from the sofa. If his parents made an unexpected return home, their son engaged in a sexual act with a former representative of his rogues gallery would be the first thing they see upon entering the room.

The pace of his thrusts changed several times in the encounter, yet he always received the same welcome in her depts. Her fingers stroke his back and she had wrapped her legs around his waist, giving the impression that a bit more and they would simply merge into each other.

"Caroline," he whispered her name without a purpose, the first real word among his and her moans, yet he got no similar reply.

They reached their orgasms at the same time.

Ben lay for some time on the sofa with his silver-haired partner in his embrace before he got up to get a glass of water from in the kitchen. He asked whether she wanted one as well, but her answer was a polite refusal. Not bothering to dress up, Ben went to the kitchen.

As he was emptying his glass, he could not avoid thinking how distant the problem that was breaking him in the first half of the day had become. He had to admit—he never denied it the first part, for that matter—Charmcaster had a positive sway on him, and perhaps she was fate's gift sent to him for saving the universe so many times.

He felt hardening as he was thinking about it.

_One more round wouldn't be bad_, he thought before exiting the kitchen.

He saw her lying on the sofa on her stomach. Ben admired her body—the whole scene gave the impression of being painted on canvas. He bowed in order to check whether she had fallen asleep. He thought it was the case for a moment, however, her eyelids slowly opened.

"Ben," a light smile crossed her face.

Ben put his hand on her bare back; her skin was smooth and warm. Patting her, his hand slid to her buttock. He took his position above her and not receiving a protest, made his way inside her; she was tight. Charmcaster released a loud moan and clawed her fingers into the sofa's fabric.

—

Ben woke up in his own bed in the morning. He turned his head to the side, finding his companion next to him, her snow-white hair blending with the pillow of the same color. They had taken their activities to his room in the evening. Caroline looked so peaceful when she slept. Ben ran his finger down her face, from temple to chin. He did not break her slumber. The young woman mumbled something in her slumber and turned to her side.

Ben chuckled quietly.

Then his cell phone rang.

He got out of bed and in a quick pace reached the table where he had left it. The screen displayed the word 'Grandpa' on it.

"Yes," the young hero answered.

"Ben, we need you at the Plumber HQ as soon as possible," Grandpa's voice sounded intense through the phone, "the Forever Knights have launched an attack on the headquarters, and I believe they brought their siege weapons with them."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Ben replied.

"Got it. Over and out," Grandpa concluded and hung up.

Cursing silently, Ben walked to his pile of clothes—he would not go there butt-naked even in alien form.

"Something up again?" he heard Caroline's half-sleepy voice as he picked up his underwear.

He turned to her, spotting the beauty standing on the knees on his bed.

"Need to go down and sort out a problem with the Forever Knights," he said.

Caroline smiled understandably; it was nice to see Ben again dedicated to his work.

"I suppose I'll see you later today," she said.

"I bet you will," Ben gave her one of his cheerful grins.

They both dressed up and saying 'bye' went their own ways: the young hero slammed the extraterrestrial watch on his wrist that turned him into the half-bird half-reptilian hybrid 'Jetray', while she made her exit in the traditional way of the spellcasters, teleportation.

Caroline turned up at her apartment. She did not know what to do with herself; it was her day off, and the lack of any work or leisure activity usually made her suffer from boredom. She sat down in a chair and closed her eyes.

The tales of her past flickered in front of her in her mind.

She once again saw her uncle clad in his dark garment studying some artifact he had stolen; she could not even say to what specific time this memory belonged to. The next one was of herself standing with her guardians, the stone golems, by her sides, looking at a portal open above the ground. She remembered that one: it was when she attempted to use Gwen's boyfriend against her.

Yet it was no longer that way. The tides of the great river of Time had carried both her uncle and the golems into the past, from which no means of escape would ever be invented.

But that did not bother her.

For two years a question raised on its own in the darkest parts in the back of her mind: did she really make the right choice when she gave up her old ways and forsook the name 'Charmcaster'?

She was now certain it was for the best.

The sorceress smiled.

For many years she had been confused by her emotions, unable to interpret them all; she could not name the reason why, but possibly for the first time in her life Caroline felt truly happy.


End file.
